Three

Charles turned up the intensity of his soul-piercing gaze. It was almost too much to bear, and Joanne thought she would melt onto the floor.

"Where - Is - My - Bid?" Charles repeated slowly, his eyes still fixed on Joanne, but asking Mitch. Joanne cranked open her mouth with sheer willpower.

"That's everything I was given. Sir." she mumbled.

Charles moved his dangerous eyes to Mitch.

"Mitch. Can I please have my quantity bid? You know, the one took me and my team four months to prepare? And another 4 for you to vet? And another two for us to submit? You know the one, yes?" Charles recited.

"I don't understand, Sir." Mitch sweated profusely. "You. Woman! You were supposed to file everything together!" Mitch boomed.

"But this was everything on the desk!" Joanne cried.

"Get off!.I'll find it myself." Mitch moved in.

After hours of searching Joanne's desk, and everyone else's at the firm, the bid was absent. All digitals were destroyed for confidential reasons, and it was the only copy.

"Where did you keep it?!" Mitch had started yelling. His accounting firm was sure to be fired.

"I already told you! That was everything." Joanne had started crying. It seemed her old life was crawling back to her.

"Mitch, don't yell at your employees. It's tactless."

"Oh- I see. I" Mitch Stuttered.

"But of course, you know you're already fired. The matter now is that your firm has to compensate me for losing this bid. I was supposed to make at least 10 million with this contract." Charles explained.

Mitch hung his head low.

"I will accept 2 million as a fair payment. You will hear from my lawyers. Or-"

Mitch and Joanne's ears perked.

Charles nonchalantly pointed at Joanne.

"She is your staff, yes? Release her into my services. If you do, I will forfeit the compensation."

Joanne stopped sobbing and looked up with shock. Mitch stopped sulking with his head. He cleaned his ears and patted his head before asking "Did I just hear correctly, Mr McAllister?" Mitch asked.

"I don't repeat myself. You have 10 minutes to decide." Charles replied and went silent. Mitch looked from Charles, then to Joanne. He called some other senior staff, and they escorted Joanne into the Conference room.

The staff went to work on the computers, while Mitch paced about the long oval room. Joanne resolved to sit in silence, but the odd feeling that her life was about to get worse repudiated her innate acquiescence 

"You're not going to give me to that man." She managed a full tone of voice. The sounds of printers soon came alive, and in a few seconds, a thick binder stapled at the neck was produced before her.

Mitch handed her a pen. "Sign here" he instructed. "It's a release clause. You will work under McAllister as an Ad-hoc staff from McConnell Accounting, that's us. We will still pay you your monthly stipends, but it's up to Mr McAllister if he wants to give you anything."

Joanne banged the table. "I'm not signing anything, and I'm not going to go work for some creep!" she exclaimed. 

"That's fine. Just give us 2 million for misplacing the bid." Mitch said coolly. 

"God. I didn't misplace anything. I swear!" Joanne cried. 

Mitch motioned to the staff, and they brought another binder similar to the first.

"Now, this one contains the different ways we will come after you. First we will re-possess all your properties. If that isn't enough, we will go to your friends and families. If that isn't enough, we will send you to jail for mismanaging documents. And if we suspect this is an organized attack on us, we will send your friends and family to jail too." Mitch recited like a professional.

Joanne screamed and pulled at her hair. She could handle condemning her life, but she couldn't bring Susan into this. "Do you understand? Now sign." Mitch gave her the pen, and she did not balk this time. 

*****

Charles McAllister bounded over to his BMW XM and looked around for the valet. A few minutes had already gone by and there was still no one to be seen. As he often did on his business trips, McAllister had driven himself and had come alone to discuss the bid. 

He had only handed the keys to the Valet because the man's eyes were of one that had seen a lack of action and had begged to be useful. Now, Charles was paying dearly for violating one of his personal rules: Acting based on emotions.

He wondered how long it would take to purchase a new BMW at the nearest dealer before Joanne hopped meekly out of the glass doors that were the entrance to the Accounting firm. She carried a small box of her office accessories and took with a poignant look on her face. She must not have seen him, or maybe she did, and intentionally took a sharp bee-turn towards the other side of the lot.

Charles also wondered if he had made another mistake. Was it her long auburn hair? Or was it the way she moved her lips when spoke? The shrill voice that was more mouse than human? Or was it her perky tits that pushed on her loose blouse? That must be it.

Girls of her class were way well below his dating league, so he was probably just burning up with raw testosterone. But whatever the reason, he had decided.

Working with him would be infinitely better than at the backwash accounting firm. If she was good, he would pay her competitive wages. But probably not though, she had misplaced important documents after all.

"Let's see how it goes," he said, stroking his chin. The valet, a young teenage boy, suddenly appeared, visibly sweating.

"Very sorry, Sir. Here are the keys." he pleaded.

"What do you think about that girl? That one." Charles asked.

The boy, after recovering from the absurdness of Charles' question, looked over to examine Joanne.

"Oh. Uhmm, she's alright, I guess?" the boy spoke.

"And?" Charles motioned him to speak.

"Uhhmm. Sorta plain looking, I guess. Hair's not bad, but not great either. Bit sad looking too. Oh! Great boobs though. " the boy observed.

Charles shook his head, and snatched his keys. "If your work ethic is anything like your proclivity to women, well, it needs some work. Oh, and also, I’ll be talking  to your boss. You're fired."

Charles McAllister roared his twin-turbocharged 4.4 liter V8 engine, and zoomed off into the Madrid Metropolis.