The Key to Fear - Kristin Cast Page 0,10

MediCenter’s glass-lined corridor. “Damn. I could’ve done better. That’s the worst part about going live. There’s no opportunity to make adjustments or edits.”

“Nonsense. You did great.” Blair’s new assistant’s words were rushed and breathy as her short legs worked to keep up. “Really, Ms. Scott, you are an asset. A real asset. Everybody thinks so.” Her assistant’s constant need to please made Blair’s teeth hurt.

“Your name,” Blair snapped her fingers. “I’ve forgotten it already.”

“Wyndham, Ms. Scott. Maxine Wyndham.”

Sure, Blair might seem a bit tough, and may have gone through more assistants than years she’d been alive, but that was only because none of them were a right fit. She needed someone dedicated. As dedicated as she was. And that wasn’t easy to find.

Blair would have a cot brought to her office at Westfall’s downtown MediCenter, which served as the Key Corp headquarters of the New American West Coast, if it meant a greater career edge. She’d once considered curling up on her plush throw rug, but felt it would create the wrong optics. Each one of the assistants Career Placement had assigned her had pretended to feel the way she did, but it was obvious they didn’t possess the same strain of dedication Blair had coursing through her veins. She’d even weighed letting her brother give it a shot, but she knew how that would end.

The Leightons, Blair’s parents, had both worked hard for the long, prestigious titles they’d tacked in front of their surnames. After their deaths, Cath Scott had adopted Blair, and the Key had pressured her to take Cath’s last name. Unity, that’s what the corporation had been striving after. That’s how battles were won and power reigned, and Blair understood those facts completely. It was a fair trade-off. The silver lining to her unbelievably stormy life. A new last name that practically oozed power in exchange for her fate as an orphan. Even if she’d had a choice, she would have taken that name. Cath had not only completed a doctorate but had also risen to director of Career Placement at the MediCenter. That made Blair as close to an example of born and raised in as anyone was going to get.

But, for some reason, every assistant placed with Blair assumed that her desire to be on top meant that she needed some kind of yes person. That, however, was not how the saying went. Behind every strong woman was a sea of strong women, not behind every strong woman was a sea of yes-minded drones. Why didn’t anyone understand that?

Blair turned down the corridor that led to her office and stopped short of the door. “Ms. Wyndham.” She swiveled to face her pretty new assistant. “I appreciate all you’ve done …”

Black.

She categorized the lie immediately. Although, black was far from the worst kind. Blair was always lying to someone. Like luggage on a trip, lies followed her to each destination. She had to pack them up every night just to unload them in the morning. To keep track, she’d developed a sort of guide. It also served as a guilt meter—Blair felt it was the least she could do to make note of how guilty she should feel if she ever decided to turn that part of herself back on.

Red lies were lies that, if they were corporeal, would draw blood. And then there were black lies. Blair would never feel anything about black lies. They were empty holes of nothingness. Words slid so gracefully into conversation that their absence would have been felt more seriously than their addition.

Blair hooked a soft smile to the corners of her lips and continued. “But I really don’t think you’re right for this position.”

Maxine’s cheeks flushed and the tip of her thin nose turned pink. “I don’t understand. I thought everything was going well.”

“It is …” Black. “But our styles are too different.”

Maxine’s nose twitched, and she rubbed her red, puffy eyes.

Blair forced her palms flat against each other to keep them from balling into fists. People where always hemorrhaging their feelings all over the place. If Blair could keep hers buttoned up, there was no reason why others couldn’t also. “Now, Maxine, please don’t cry.”

“I’m not.” She pulled a handkerchief from her pants pocket and dabbed her eyes.

Blair dug her pinky nail into her palm, relaxing slightly as a jolt of pain sparked up her arm. “Really, tears are nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Black.

Blair unclasped her hands, unfolding herself in an attempt to look more open and