“You’re cleaning in here?” Bruno asked, his voice dangerously quiet. He stepped into the room, his expensive leather shoes stepping directly onto the loose floorboard. I held my breath, terrified the mechanism would click. “I thought I told you the cleaning lady handles my office.”
“She… she had an emergency today,” I lied smoothly, though my heart was beating so loud I was certain he could hear it. “Her daughter got sick. So I told her I’d finish up the office so she wouldn’t lose her day’s pay. I was just trying to be helpful.”
Bruno stared at me for three agonizing seconds. Then, a slow, condescending smile spread across his lips. He turned to the notary. “You see, Arthur? My wife is a saint. Always thinking of the help.”
Arthur the notary didn’t smile. He looked completely detached, a corporate mercenary hired to execute a legal execution. “Shall we proceed, Mr. Miller? I have another appointment in thirty minutes.”
