The elevator doors chimed and slid open. Martin Pryce practically fell out of the cab. Sweat dripped down his forehead. He saw Gage and immediately plastered a sickeningly eager smile on his face.
Gage let go of June's chin. He looked at his fingers in disgust. He took a white handkerchief from his assistant and wiped his hand, as if her skin had infected him.
Martin rushed forward, bowing his head. He completely ignored June, who was shaking against the wall.
Gage kicked the blueprint tube across the carpet. It rolled and hit Martin's shoe. Gage stared at Martin and stated the designs were garbage.
All the color drained from Martin's face. He stuttered, his hands shaking. He begged Gage not to pull the contract, pleading that his company would go bankrupt.
Gage turned his back. He walked into the massive VIP room and sat down on the center leather sofa. He waved his hand. The bodyguards shoved June and Martin inside.
A bodyguard pushed June hard between the shoulder blades. She stumbled forward and fell to her knees on the cashmere rug right in front of the glass coffee table.
Gage reached for a bottle of high-proof vodka on the table. He grabbed a massive crystal tumbler. He poured the clear liquid until it reached the brim. He pushed the heavy glass to the edge of the table, right in front of June's face.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He offered a deal. She drinks the entire glass right now, and the contract stays. If she refuses, they both get thrown out.
June stared at the massive amount of alcohol. Her stomach rolled. She had never been able to handle liquor. Drinking that much would make her pass out. She could not pass out in front of him again.
Martin snapped. He lunged at June like a rabid dog. He screamed at her, ordering her to drink it to save his company.
June looked up at Martin. She shook her head, her voice cracking as she told him it would poison her.
Martin grabbed June's arm, his fingers digging into her flesh. He leaned in, his voice a vicious, desperate hiss right by her ear. "Drink it, or I'll make sure your career is over before it even begins. I'll ruin you."
The sheer malice in his threat echoed in the large room. June's head snapped to the side. Her arm throbbed instantly. The metallic taste of fear filled her mouth.
On the sofa, Gage's eyes narrowed. A muscle in his jaw twitched. His fingers tightened around the armrest of the sofa, the leather creaking under his grip.
June pressed her hand to her stinging arm. She looked at Martin's furious face, then at the cold men watching her. She realized no one in this room viewed her as a human being.
She wiped a stray tear from the corner of her eye with the back of her hand. She turned her head and stared directly into Gage's black eyes. A cold, dead resolve settled in her chest.
She spoke clearly, her voice no longer shaking. She told him she would rather be fired than drink it.
Gage let out a dry, mocking laugh. He found her sudden burst of backbone amusing. His eyes drifted to the heavy steel cigar cutter resting next to the bottle.
He leaned back against the cushions. He offered a second option. She didn't have to drink. She just had to take the scissors and cut off her hair.
A collective gasp rippled through the men in the room. It was an act of pure psychological humiliation.
June looked at the silver blades. Her long brown hair fell over her shoulders. Her grandmother used to brush it every night before she died.
Martin grabbed June's shoulder, shaking her. He yelled at her to do it, reaching for the scissors himself before a bodyguard shoved him back.
June closed her eyes. She took a deep breath that rattled in her chest. She reached out with a trembling hand and picked up the heavy steel cutter.
Gage's mocking smile faded slightly. He watched as June grabbed a thick handful of her hair near her jawline. Without a second of hesitation, she squeezed the blades together.
The harsh, crunching sound of steel slicing through hair filled the room. Thick locks of brown hair fell onto the expensive cashmere rug.
June moved fast. She hacked at her hair, her movements violent and jagged. She cut until her hair was a ragged, uneven mess around her ears.
She slammed the cutter down onto the glass table. Her eyes were red, but she refused to let a single tear fall. She stared Gage down and asked if he was satisfied.
Gage stared at the pile of hair on the floor. A sharp, painful tightness gripped his chest. A wave of intense frustration and anger washed over him. This wasn't the reaction he wanted.
He stood up abruptly. He leaned over the table, bringing his face inches from hers. He whispered directly into her ear, his voice like poison. "Don't forget the video. You can't run from me."
Those words shattered the armor she had just built. The memory of the red light flashed in her mind. She shoved Gage's chest, scrambled to her feet, and ran out the heavy oak doors.
June sprinted down the hallway, her chopped hair flying around her face, tears finally spilling down her cheeks as she ran for the elevator.
