long pause. In her silence, she'd stared at him. In this boardroom where she and Finch met for countless private meetings, discussing key strategy, behind the scenes tactics that she'd most always discovered solutions to the often strange and hidden cover-ups. Her entire career had suddenly seemed so false.
Her body still hadn't quite caught up with the rude awakening, despite the obvious tailspin he'd plunged on her without warning.
Finch hadn't bothered to face Danielle, bolting his eyes toward the entry, he'd instantly pressed up out of his seat and strolled toward the expanse of double doors.
In her defense she said, "Who's this we --We're partners. What's the meaning of this?" She choked on a breath. Watching him head for the door, she said, "Why wasn't I given notice?" Some nerve , she murmured.
Danielle choked on her breath again, when all of a sudden the air felt suffocating, mangling her nerves into collapse. Her eyes were wide in a blank stare when her mouth rolled to silence. But then, in those few seconds of silence, when her eyebrows rose, she felt throes hit her like a hurricane quaking every bone in her body and searing every cell with a hunger for revenge.
Suddenly, her palms tightened. Her veins poked through her flesh, strangling the armrests until her knuckles turned crimson. Her viscous hands were a damp sponge suckled by the coarse tweed of her skirt. And then a vision leapt to memory of years spent behind a desk in an office peering down on a city's carousing, while she'd jammed herself in a revolving pit of ceaseless deadline after deadline.
Years of investigating fraud and recovering funds from covert operations ... months of time consuming strategic analysis... The very thought had her chiseling deep veins in the sinewy leather, as her ruby nails pricked the cushion like supple cookie dough.
Staring so intensely at the rear of his scalp, her brows snapped together as she found her annoyance searing beyond nightmarish embarrassment. His russet hair was shellacking little wet hairs like he'd combed it with black shoe polish. And in that moment, she felt her fury begin a blaze, as her brooding sharp eyes skewered Finch's sweat into a sizzling valley of steamed vapor.
For a woman who prided herself on being gutsy and defiant, she wasn't in the habit of collapsing under pressure or risking complacency by anyone's demand. Despite everything she'd devoted to work. Danielle wasn't idealistic in thinking Finch had the nerve and audacity to plunge her into insidious entrapment without some strange hoax up his sleeve.
And she wasn't about to retreat as a vulnerable, gullible fool of a woman. No, she was not going to give him the benefit--gambling her life like a crazed roulette wheel. Make no mistake, she wasn't stupid to risk sucking into his trap to embarrassment, and destroying the one thing she'd struggled for.
Her fury was teetering on the edge of a volcanic uprising. Just before all hell broke loose, a surge of wind blew the door open the moment Finch turned the knob. Her brows arched in surprise when she'd heard, "Security will escort you out. Leave your--"
Finch still evaded her as he stood near the door continuing the protocol as if she were some inept fraud or zany probationary employee.
Amazingly, after moments of silence on Finch's part, his response was callous and absurd.
And then suddenly, Danielle noticed two uniformed men standing in the doorway. She looked at Roman with alarm, as his eyes were just as wide-eyed in shock as hers.
The termination hadn't technically been made official, when Finch turned to two of the men soldiering each side of the double door threshold. He'd donned a quick nod to their woodenly stature, gesturing the termination protocol onward.
The men came at Danielle instantly, halting just a few steps from her. They stared at her with an equal expression of suspicion that changed to growing impatience.
Despite the small militia shading her vision, she all but
Her body still hadn't quite caught up with the rude awakening, despite the obvious tailspin he'd plunged on her without warning.
Finch hadn't bothered to face Danielle, bolting his eyes toward the entry, he'd instantly pressed up out of his seat and strolled toward the expanse of double doors.
In her defense she said, "Who's this we --We're partners. What's the meaning of this?" She choked on a breath. Watching him head for the door, she said, "Why wasn't I given notice?" Some nerve , she murmured.
Danielle choked on her breath again, when all of a sudden the air felt suffocating, mangling her nerves into collapse. Her eyes were wide in a blank stare when her mouth rolled to silence. But then, in those few seconds of silence, when her eyebrows rose, she felt throes hit her like a hurricane quaking every bone in her body and searing every cell with a hunger for revenge.
Suddenly, her palms tightened. Her veins poked through her flesh, strangling the armrests until her knuckles turned crimson. Her viscous hands were a damp sponge suckled by the coarse tweed of her skirt. And then a vision leapt to memory of years spent behind a desk in an office peering down on a city's carousing, while she'd jammed herself in a revolving pit of ceaseless deadline after deadline.
Years of investigating fraud and recovering funds from covert operations ... months of time consuming strategic analysis... The very thought had her chiseling deep veins in the sinewy leather, as her ruby nails pricked the cushion like supple cookie dough.
Staring so intensely at the rear of his scalp, her brows snapped together as she found her annoyance searing beyond nightmarish embarrassment. His russet hair was shellacking little wet hairs like he'd combed it with black shoe polish. And in that moment, she felt her fury begin a blaze, as her brooding sharp eyes skewered Finch's sweat into a sizzling valley of steamed vapor.
For a woman who prided herself on being gutsy and defiant, she wasn't in the habit of collapsing under pressure or risking complacency by anyone's demand. Despite everything she'd devoted to work. Danielle wasn't idealistic in thinking Finch had the nerve and audacity to plunge her into insidious entrapment without some strange hoax up his sleeve.
And she wasn't about to retreat as a vulnerable, gullible fool of a woman. No, she was not going to give him the benefit--gambling her life like a crazed roulette wheel. Make no mistake, she wasn't stupid to risk sucking into his trap to embarrassment, and destroying the one thing she'd struggled for.
Her fury was teetering on the edge of a volcanic uprising. Just before all hell broke loose, a surge of wind blew the door open the moment Finch turned the knob. Her brows arched in surprise when she'd heard, "Security will escort you out. Leave your--"
Finch still evaded her as he stood near the door continuing the protocol as if she were some inept fraud or zany probationary employee.
Amazingly, after moments of silence on Finch's part, his response was callous and absurd.
And then suddenly, Danielle noticed two uniformed men standing in the doorway. She looked at Roman with alarm, as his eyes were just as wide-eyed in shock as hers.
The termination hadn't technically been made official, when Finch turned to two of the men soldiering each side of the double door threshold. He'd donned a quick nod to their woodenly stature, gesturing the termination protocol onward.
The men came at Danielle instantly, halting just a few steps from her. They stared at her with an equal expression of suspicion that changed to growing impatience.
Despite the small militia shading her vision, she all but
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