I heard the footsteps before I saw him. Leather soles thudding on the wooden stage, even and deliberate. He emerged from the shadows and approached the lectern.
I recognised him at once.
The man who walked across the stage in a crisp black suit was the same man I had seen in the elevator on that fateful morning. I flashed back to that awkward moment, his penetrating eyes on me, his humourless, straight-faced remark.
“Your top’s on inside out.”
I slid down my seat in an aftershock of embarrassment.
Why is he up on the stage? He can’t be… can he?
The man made a shooing gesture, and the COO stepped out of the way like his meek underling. He took the stand. Under the harsh stage lights, he looked even more severe than I remembered. Piercing dark eyes, clenched jaw, sharp nose, pursed lips.
“Wow. He looks sinister,” Brooke said.
“He does,” I agreed.
My gaze picked up on something else—a figure standing in the darkness behind the man. When my eyes adjusted, I made out an elegant woman with a pregnant belly.
Christine.
She watched on with her arms folded and her head held high.
So, Christine has something to do with all this as well…
The conference theatre buzzed. The man commanded attention with his pin-straight posture and his stern expression. He scanned the audience as if sizing us up, and he didn’t look impressed with what he saw. He clearly wasn’t going to tolerate our behaviour and wouldn’t speak until everyone had settled down. His fingertips drummed the side of the lectern. His jawline was stiff, his brow creased.
A hush fell over the audience like a blanket smothering a fire. All eyes were on him.
He tapped the microphone, causing a screech of feedback. Then, at last, he spoke. “How is it that so many people are gathered here? Who is out doing the work, running the business?” His voice had a low, luxurious timbre that made me shiver.
Confusion and nervous laughter rippled through the room.
“Anyone?” he pressed.
A woman near the front spoke with a slight tremor in her voice. “A few staff members from each department have stayed behind.”
“But coming here to argue and complain is a productive use of your time?”
“Staff aren’t machines. They’re human beings. Trust and transparency go a long way in business.”
“How very wise.” His words dripped with snide sarcasm. “Your name and position?”
“Clara Evans. I run the HR department. And you are?”
He smirked, dark eyes glinting. “How rude of me. I haven’t introduced myself.” He turned his attention to the audience at large. “My name is Neil Kingston. I’m sure most of you have put two and two together, but for those who are a bit slow, I’ll spell it out. I am going to be the new CEO of Luxmore Appliances.”
Fresh gasps and murmurs broke out.
Just as I suspected. That man, Neil Kingston, was the new CEO. I slipped further down my seat, mortified. I had tried to flirt with the CEO in the elevator. What had I even been thinking?
“There’s no point wasting more time,” Neil said. “I’ll keep this short and sweet. Yes, the future of Luxmore is at risk. Is that the confirmation you were after?”
A collective sinking feeling was palpable. No one called out. No one dared say anything.
Neil continued. “For the company to stand a chance at survival, changes are going to have to be made, and not everyone will like them. Anyone who doesn’t wish to comply can feel free to walk away and leave the company at any time. Voluntary resignations will make my task of organising a restructure that much easier.”
Restructure. The word seared itself into my brain like a hot iron brand. It was true. People were going to lose their jobs, and I could be one of them.
The audience bristled. A few individuals were brave enough to raise their hands, but Neil ignored them.
“Please, do not speak to the press. Anyone who does so will ensure their position is terminated. That is all I have to say on the matter at this point,” he said. “I won’t be taking any questions.”
With that, he strode off stage and exited the conference theatre, Christine following at his side.
Brooke furrowed her brow. “What’s with that guy? What an arsehole.”
“We might lose our jobs,” I whimpered.