Chapter 1
The black marble was cold under my cheek and I didn't feel the three men standing around me. I had been trying to wipe that table for what felt like hours and then my arms just folded and my head went down. The white cloth was still bunched under my forearm, damp from polish. Somewhere above me a voice said, "Sir, this is already the third time this week she's fallen asleep while working." It was supposed to be an office that smelled like lemon cleaner and coffee, but all I could smell was the polish on the cloth.
He was supposed to be the one who noticed nothing. The man in the velvet blazer with the gold piping was supposed to be in meetings, not leaning over a maid asleep on his conference table. His reflection swam in the marble next to my face, and his white shirt was open at the collar and his movements were slow, like he was trying not to wake me. That was the contradiction that kept me under - I was invisible until I was suddenly the only thing in the room.
My name is Maya Collins. I was twenty-seven and I hadn't slept more than three hours in any night that week.
That afternoon the schedule was half under my arm. I remember the paper catching on the marble when he slid it. It was white and headed MAYA COLLINS in block letters and two rows near the middle were highlighted yellow, 15:00 and 15:07. His fingers were careful. He didn't tug. He eased it out inch by inch so the cloth wouldn't move. I kept my eyes closed and breathed shallow because if I opened them I would have to explain why I was asleep on the glossy table in the luxury office with the dark paneled walls and gold trim and the warm spot light making everything too sharp.
He held the paper up and turned it toward the light. I heard his breath catch. Someone else said, quieter, "Three nights in a row, she's been working for almost 36 hours." The silver calculator terminal was set down next to my elbow with a soft click. The green button caught the light. He studied the highlighted times and his brow furrowed. Then, "The orders were approved with Miss Olivia's code."
My stomach dropped even while I pretended to sleep.
"Olivia's been in New York for a week."
I wanted to say it wasn't my fault. I wanted to say I didn't ask for the extra nights. The lie that was ready in my throat was simple: I volunteered. One sentence. But before I could use it, the man in the blazer said it for me, low and stern, "Nobody touches her. I want to know why she can't stay awake first." He wasn't talking to me. He was telling the guards to step back. He pressed the green button on the terminal once and the display blinked.
May you like
"Who's using her code?"
I heard a hand on the office door handle, metal turning, and his shadow fell over my closed eyes and he was still holding my schedule in both hands.
