I was lost in thought at my desk, trying to focus on the spreadsheet in front of me when a voice suddenly cut through my concentration.
"Morning, Norman!"
I jumped, nearly knocking over my coffee mug. My heart raced as I spun around, only to see Sarah standing there, her eyes wide with surprise at my reaction.
"Whoa, sorry!" she said, taking a step back. "Didn't mean to startle you."
I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. "No, it's... it's fine. Just a bit jumpy this morning, I guess."
Sarah tilted her head, studying me with concern. "You okay? You look a little pale."
I forced a smile, acutely aware of how on edge I must appear. "Yeah, just... didn't sleep well last night."
Sarah's eyes narrowed, scanning me from head to toe. Suddenly, they widened in recognition. "Wait a minute...are you wearing Brioni!?"
I blinked, caught off guard. "I'm wearing what?"
"Brioni," Sarah repeated, her voice a mix of awe and disbelief. "It's a luxury brand. Super expensive."
I glanced down at my clothes, genuinely surprised. I hadn't paid attention to the brands when Simon and I went shopping. "Oh, um... I'm not sure, actually."
Sarah's eyebrows shot up. "You're not sure? Norman, how can you not know you're wearing clothes that probably cost more than our monthly salary? Where'd you get it?"
I shifted uncomfortably, acutely aware of how out of place these clothes must look on me. "It was… a gift."
Sarah's eyes narrowed, clearly not satisfied with my vague answers. "A gift? From who? A secret millionaire uncle?"
I laughed nervously, the sound strained even to my own ears. "No, nothing like that. Just.. a friend."
Sarah's skepticism was evident. "A friend?"
Suddenly, a mischievous glint appeared in Sarah's eyes. "Wait… don't tell me our little Norman's got himself some secret millionaire lover?" She teased.
"No! No, nothing like that," I said quickly, my words tumbling out. "My friend is a man!"
Sarah's grin widened. "Oh, a man, huh?" She playfully nudged my arm. "Is this 'friend' of yours single?"
"What? I mean, yes, but—"
"Well hook a sister up, Norman!" Sarah grinned, "I wouldn't mind having a 'friend' with expensive taste."
I laughed nervously, tugging at my collar. "It's not... I mean, he's not..."
a commotion near the elevators caught my attention. A group of executives, led by Simon, had just stepped onto our floor.
"...and we'll be looking at potential design changes for each department," I overheard one of them saying.
I saw Simon approaching. My whole body tensed.
"I should get back to work," I blurted out, turning abruptly to my computer.
Sarah blinked, caught off guard by my sudden shift. "Oh, okay. But—"
I turned to my computer, my fingers hovering nervously over the keyboard. Around us, I could hear the buzz of my coworkers' whispered conversations as they noticed the executive presence.
"What do you think they're doing here?"
"Are we getting a makeover?"
"Isn't that the president?"
Sarah, still standing by my desk, seemed confused by my reaction. I could feel her gaze on me, then saw her head turn towards the group of executives.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Sarah's posture change. She stiffened slightly, her attention now fully on the group.
"Norman," she said quietly, "is it just me, or is President Heath staring at you?"
I risked a glance up. Sure enough, while the other executives were engrossed in their discussion, Simon stood slightly apart. His head was tilted in our direction, one hand casually in his pocket, his intense gaze fixed squarely on me.
I quickly looked back at my screen, my heart racing. "I'm sure he's just surveying the whole office," I muttered, not believing my own words.
Sarah made a noncommittal noise, clearly unconvinced. As the executives began to move through the office, I could feel Simon's eyes on me, even as he nodded along with whatever his colleagues were saying.
The weight of his gaze made me sink lower in my chair.
I tried to focus on my computer screen, but I could feel the weight of his stare boring into me.
Sarah stood silently by my desk, her eyes darting between Simon and me. I could almost hear the gears turning in her head, piecing together the expensive clothes, my nervous behavior, and now Simon's undivided attention.
"Norman," Sarah whispered, leaning in slightly, "what's going on? Why is the president—"
I couldn't take it anymore. The pressure of Simon's gaze, Sarah's questions, and my own racing thoughts became overwhelming.
"I'm sorry," I blurted out, cutting Sarah off mid-sentence. I stood up abruptly, my chair rolling back with a loud screech that drew a few curious glances. "I need to use the restroom."
Without waiting for a response, I hurried away from my desk, pointedly avoiding eye contact with Simon or anyone else. I could feel Sarah's confused stare following me as I nearly jogged to the bathroom, desperate for a moment of privacy.
As I pushed through the bathroom door, I caught a glimpse of Simon still watching me, his head turned to follow my retreat. The last thing I saw before the door swung shut was Sarah's perplexed expression.
In the relative safety of the bathroom, I leaned against the sink, my hands gripping the cool porcelain as I tried to steady my breathing. I knew I couldn't hide in here forever, but for now, I needed a moment to collect myself.
Why? Why why?
Simon really had to be here now of all times!?
Simon was out touring the building with the other executives. His office would be empty.
This was my chance to check the photo album.
The thought sent a jolt of adrenaline through me. I straightened up, looking at my reflection in the mirror. My face was pale, my eyes wide with a mix of fear and determination.
I took a deep breath. It was now or never.
Cautiously, I opened the bathroom door, peering out to make sure the coast was clear. I could still hear the distant voices of the executives, now on the other side of the office floor.
With as much nonchalance as I could muster, I made my way towards the elevators. A few coworkers glanced my way, but most were still distracted by the presence of the executives.
As I stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the executive floor, my heart pounded so loudly I was sure everyone could hear it. The ride up felt agonizingly slow.
Finally, the doors opened. The executive floor was quiet, most of its occupants downstairs with the tour. I walked briskly towards Simon's office.
As much as I hate to admit it, the new clothes definitely helped make me look like I belonged, nobody seemed to question my presence.
As I rounded the corner to Simon's office, I froze. The receptionist was at her desk, typing away, oblivious to my presence.
I ducked behind a large potted plant, my heart hammering so loudly I was sure she'd hear it. Minutes ticked by, feeling like hours. I watched her through the leaves, willing her to leave.
Finally, her phone rang. She answered, her voice a low murmur I couldn't quite make out. Then she stood, grabbing a file folder before hurrying off down the hallway.
I waited a few more seconds, then darted to Simon's door. My hand closed around the cold metal handle, twisting it hopefully. Locked, of course.
Panic rose in my throat, but I forced it down. I'd come too far to give up now. I glanced at the receptionist's desk, an idea forming.
Rifling through her drawers as quietly as possible, I found what I needed: a paper clip and a business card. I straightened the clip with trembling fingers, bending one end into a crude hook like I'd seen in movies.
Kneeling before the lock, I inserted my makeshift pick. The metal scraped against the lock's innards as I jiggled it, trying to feel for the pins. Sweat beaded on my forehead, trickling down my temple.
Every distant sound made me flinch. The elevator ding. Footsteps. Voices. Each noise could be Simon returning, ready to catch me in the act.
"Damn it," I muttered under my breath, frustration building as I clumsily manipulated the paper clip. My fingers, slick with sweat, kept slipping. The lock remained stubbornly closed.
Tears of anger and desperation pricked at my eyes. I blinked hard, trying to focus. But the more I struggled, the more hopeless it seemed.
"Come on," I whispered, my voice catching in my throat. "Please, just open—"
Come on, I'm so close, so close to getting answers. Don't do this to me now.
"Norman?"
I froze, ice flooding my veins. Slowly, I turned to face the voice I knew all too well.
Simon stood there, two steaming cups in his hands, an amused smile playing at the corners of his mouth, an eyebrow raised.
"What are you doing up here?" he asked, his tone light but his eyes sharp.
I scrambled to my feet, the paper clip clattering to the floor. "I... I was just..." My mind raced, searching for an explanation, any explanation.
Simon's gaze flicked to the dropped paper clip, then back to me. "Were you trying to get into my office?"
Heat rushed to my face. "I..."
"You know," Simon said, his tone conversational, "you could have just asked to be let in."
He extended one of the cups towards me. "Here, I was bringing this to Sam but she seems to have stepped out. Would you like it?"
I stared at him, baffled by his calm demeanor. "You're not... angry?"
Simon chuckled softly. "Angry? No, Norman."
I stared at him, then at the offered cup, my mind reeling. How long had he been watching? Why wasn't he furious?
Simon turned to the door, pulling out his keys. The lock clicked open effortlessly, mocking my earlier struggles. He pushed the door open, holding it with one hand.
"After you, Norman," he said, his voice smooth and controlled, gesturing for me to enter.
I hesitated, my legs feeling like lead.
Swallowing hard, I stepped into Simon's office, acutely aware of him following close behind. The heavy door closed behind us like a coffin lid, the snap of the latch closing echoing in the tense silence between us.
My body tense as Simon brushed past me. He moved to the bookshelf, standing off to the side and gestured towards a particular book, his eyes meeting mine.
"Is this what you were after?" Simon asked, his voice calm and even.
I blinked, caught off guard. "How did you...?"
Simon laughed softly, the sound oddly gentle. "It was fairly obvious, Norman. You've been acting strange towards me since you saw it. I put two and two together."
Strange?
I've been acting strange?
I stood there, frozen, unsure how to respond.
After a moment of silence, Simon continued, his hand still indicating the book. "Go ahead," he said, his voice encouraging. "Take a look. I imagine your curiosity has been eating at you."
I hesitated, my eyes darting between Simon and the book. Was this a trap? Or was he genuinely giving me permission?
"It's alright," Simon assured me, his smile warm. "I have nothing to hide, Norman. See for yourself."
Slowly, I moved towards the bookshelf, my heart pounding.
My hand closed around the spine of the book, and I pulled it from the shelf, acutely aware of Simon's gaze on me.
I stood there for a moment, the book feeling oddly heavy in my hands, my fingers trembling slightly as they rested on the cover.
My mind raced with possibilities, each one darker than the last. What horrors would I find inside? Stalker-like photos? Detailed plans?
Simon's voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. "Go on."
His calm demeanor only heightened my anxiety. I swallowed hard, my throat dry.
I had come this far. I had to know.
Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself and opened the book.
And there it was.
Exactly as Simon had described.
Page after page of employee photos. Group shots from company events, individual portraits, candid moments around the office. There I was, in a group photo from last year's holiday party. Another of me at my desk, focused on my computer screen.
Nothing sinister. Nothing stalker-like. Just a corporate photo album.
I flipped through the pages, a mix of relief and embarrassment washing over me. All my fears, all my paranoia, had been for this?
"You see?" Simon's voice was soft, understanding. "Just as I told you. Nothing more than a record of our company's people and events."
I looked up at him, my face burning with shame. "I... I don't know what to say. I thought..."
Simon nodded, a small smile on his face. "I understand Norman, really. But perhaps now you'll be more relaxed around me?"
As I stood there, the innocuous photo album in my hands, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders, coupled with the burning embarrassment I felt.
Simon's demeanor shifted, his voice lightening. "Why don't we sit down? Your cider's getting cold."
He gestured to the plush chairs in front of his desk. I nodded and sank into one of the seats.
Simon sat down across from me, his voice soft and tinged with what sounded like hurt. "I hope this... misunderstanding doesn't paint me in a bad light, Norman."
I clutched the album, shame burning in my cheeks. "N-no, sir! I.. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed—"
"Like I said, Norman, it's alright." Simon interjected gently. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "But… perhaps in the future, you could come to me with your concerns? Instead of... this." He gestured vaguely at the door, referring to my failed break-in attempt.
I nodded, feeling smaller by the second. "Of course. I'm sorry."
Simon's expression softened. "I know you are. And I hope that moving forward, we can rebuild that trust."
He gave a self deprecating chuckle. "To think you believed I might be capable of doing something like that... well, it's disheartening, to say the least. Here I was thinking we had a good relationship."
I felt my throat tighten.
"I hope that going forward, you can try and see me in a new light," He continued, "I want to be there for all of my employees when they're going through rough times. It's the least I can do."
His words hit me like a punch to the gut. He was right. He had done all those things for me, and how had I repaid him? With suspicion and attempted break-ins.
The guilt was overwhelming.
Simon's demeanor softened. "Now that we've cleared the air, why don't we enjoy our cider? No need to let it go to waste."
Grateful for the shift in atmosphere, I nodded.
As I took a sip of the warm cider, Simon's eyes swept over me. "I'm glad to see you're wearing the new clothes we picked out. They really do suit you well."
"Oh, thank you," I mumbled, glancing down at my outfit. Without thinking, I added, "Actually, Sarah noticed them this morning..."
I trailed off as I noticed Simon tense ever so slightly, barely perceptibly.
"Did she?" Simon asked, "And what did she say?"
I shifted in my seat, "She was just... curious about where they came from. I didn't say much."
Simon nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. "I see. Well, it's natural for people to notice big changes like that."
There was a brief pause, and I could almost see Simon's mind working behind his calm exterior. Then, his expression shifted, a new idea seemingly taking shape.
"You know, Norman," he began, his tone casual but with an underlying intensity, "speaking of changes, there's something I've been meaning to discuss with you."
I straightened in my chair, curious. "Yes, sir?"
"I've been working on a special project," Simon began, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers. "It's something I'm personally overseeing, not outside of our usual scope but I've been looking for someone to assist me."
It took a moment for his words to sink in. "Are you... are you asking me?"
Simon smiled. "I am. Your work lately has shown promise, Norman. And I think we'd work together well, don't you agree?"
As I sat there, processing his offer, I felt a mix of emotions - excitement, gratitude, and a twinge of something I couldn't quite name.
"I... I'm not sure I'm qualified for something like this," I admitted, my earlier excitement giving way to doubt.
"Don't feel like you have to agree for my sake," Simon said, his eyes fixed on mine. "I just think this might be a good way to demonstrate my faith in you."
"But I understand." Simon continued, his voice measured. "After our misunderstanding, it's natural for you to have reservations. Perhaps I was being too hasty."
His words hit me like a gentle rebuke. I felt my face flush, remembering my earlier suspicions.
I felt a knot form in my stomach. Was I ruining everything again?
Here was Simon, once again extending his trust to me, even after I had suspected him of wrongdoing. And I was hesitating?
"No, Simon, I'm sorry," I said quickly. "I do want to be part of this project. I just want to make sure I don't let you down."
Simon's face brightened slightly, though a hint of caution remained in his eyes. "Are you certain, Norman? I wouldn't want you to agree out of a sense of obligation."
"I'm sure," I insisted, more firmly this time. "I appreciate your faith in me, especially after... everything. I'd be happy to take on the project."
His smile widened. "Excellent. I'm sure you'll find that this project will be beneficial to your future career."
I couldn't help but feel grateful at his words. Even after blatantly accusing him of stalking, Simon was not only forgiving me but offering me an incredible opportunity.
As Simon outlined the new project, I felt a wave of relief wash over me. The tension from earlier had dissipated, replaced by a sense of normalcy that I hadn't realized I'd been missing.
I listened to Simon's words, nodding along, but my mind kept drifting back to the photo album. How could I have been so wrong? All my suspicions, all my fears, had been nothing more than products of my own overactive imagination.
Simon's voice, calm and professional, was a stark contrast to the sinister figure I'd built up in my head. Here he was, just a boss discussing work, not the manipulative mastermind I'd feared.
I had been so caught up in my paranoia that I'd nearly ruined everything. But now, sitting here in Simon's office, discussing work like nothing had happened, I realized how lucky I was to have such a good boss.
Simon wasn't my enemy. He was my mentor, my benefactor. And I'd nearly thrown it all away based on unfounded suspicions.
Let's run it down.
He's given me new shoes, a place to stay, a whole new wardrobe....
I've been living rent free, I don't even have to buy the groceries. He's always concerned for my well-being, my comfort, and my work-life balance.
So what if he's a little odd?
I mean, there's nobody out there who's perfect 100% of the time, right?
Never again, I vowed silently. From now on, I'd trust Simon. After all, he'd done nothing but help me. It was time I started showing some gratitude.