from behind the desk. He raced toward us as if we’d just breached security, which we probably had.
“Mr. Cortez,” he said, blocking our path. “Welcome, sir. It’s a pleasure to see you.”
Lucas murmured a greeting, and nudged me to the left. The man scampered after us.
“May I buzz anyone for you, sir?”
“No, thank you,” Lucas said, still walking.
“I’ll get the elevator. It’s running slow today. May I get you both a glass of ice water while you wait?”
“No, thank you.”
The man darted ahead of us to an elevator marked “Private.” When Lucas reached for the numeric pad, the clerk beat him to it and punched in a code.
The elevator arrived, and we stepped on.
The Wages of Sin Pay Very Nicely Indeed
INSIDE, THE ELEVATOR LOOKED AS IF IT HAD BEEN CARVED from ebony. Not a single fingerprint marred the gleaming black walls and silver trim. The floor was black marble veined with white. How much money does a company need to make before it starts installing marble floors in the elevators?
A soft whir sounded and on what had appeared to be a seamless wall, a door slid open to reveal a computer panel and small screen. Lucas’s fingers flew over the keypad. Then he pressed his thumb against the screen. The computer chimed, the panel slid shut, and the elevator began to rise.
We exited on the top floor. The executive level. At the risk of sounding overimpressed, I’ll stop describing the surroundings. Suffice to say it was exquisite. Simple and understated, yet every surface, every material, was the best money could buy.
In the middle of the foyer, a marble-paneled desk rose, as if erupting from the marble floor. A beefy man in a suit sat behind a panel of television screens. When the elevator chime announced our arrival, he looked up sharply. Lucas steered me off the elevator and toward the left side of the foyer. A solid wood door on the left side of the foyer swung open. Lucas glanced at the guard, nodded, and led me through the door.
We headed into a long corridor. As the door behind us closed, I slowed, sensing something out of place. It took a moment to realize what it was. The silence. No piped-in Muzak, no voices, not even the clatter of keyboards. Not only that, but the hall itself was unlike any office corridor I’d ever seen. There were no doors along either side. Just a long hallway, branching off in the middle, and ending in a huge set of glass doors.
As we passed the midway intersection, I snuck a glance down each side. There were actually two diagonal corridors off each side, each ending in a glass door. Through each of the four glass doors I could see a reception desk and secretarial staff.
“Hector’s office to the left,” Lucas murmured. “My eldest half-brother. To the right, William and Carlos’s offices.”
“Who has the other office?” I asked. “Beside Hector’s?”
As soon as I said the words, I knew the answer, and wished I hadn’t asked.
“It’s mine,” Lucas said. “Though I’ve never worked an hour in it. An absurd waste of prime real estate, but my father keeps it staffed and stocked, because any day now I’m bound to come to my senses.”
He tried to keep his tone light, but I could hear the tightness creeping in.
“And if that ever happens, which office do I get?” I asked. “’Cause you know, I’m not going to be one of those silent-partner wives. I want a seat on the board and an office with a view.”
He smiled. “Then I’ll give you this one.”
We’d come to the end of the hall. Through the glass door I saw a reception area three times as large as the ones I’d glimpsed down the side hallways. Though it was now past six o’clock, the office was manned by a squadron of secretaries and clerks.
Like the other door, this one was automatic, and, like the last time, someone had it open before we came within ten feet. As the doors opened, the sea of staff parted to give us a path to the reception desk. The younger secretaries heralded our arrival with unconcealed gapes and stammered hellos. The older ones welcomed us with subdued smiles before quickly returning to their work.
“Mr. Cortez,” the receptionist said as we approached the desk. “A pleasure to see you, sir.”
“Thank you. Is my father in?”
“Yes, sir. Let me—”
“He’s in a meeting.” A heavyset man walked from an interior hall and headed for a bank of