Chapter 6: Consultant's Authority

"Ms. Dole," Cullen said, from the doorway. "A word about Noelle Fitch."

Whitney didn't turn.

"She's been terminated, Mr. Averill."

"Then I'd like to un-terminate her."

That made her turn.

"You have no authority over my interns."

"I have authority over my own work."

He unrolled the paper under his arm across the nearest desk.

It was a large, beautiful drawing of a curved bench in pale oak, with a woman's initials in the corner.

"The Kessler pitch," he said. "Those are Noelle's lines. I asked for her by name on Monday. I can't finish the bench without her."

"That's absurd. She's an intern."

"She's the only person on this floor who's drawn an honest curve in a month."

A few people at the back lowered their heads to hide their smiles.

Whitney's lipstick was a thin red line.

"I'll take this to Martin."

"Please do," Cullen said pleasantly. "I'll come with you."

They went off together to the glass office at the end of the floor.

I stayed at my desk with my heart going.

Four minutes later, they came out.

Martin Soames walked behind them, a heavy man in a navy suit and a loud yellow tie, rubbing his hands.

"Fine, fine," he said, loud enough for the floor. "A client request is a client request. Bring the girl back."

Whitney had nothing left on her face but ice.

"Martin."

"Whitney, we want Kessler."

"We do."

"Then Averill gets his intern."

I sent Noelle a text from the stairwell.

She was back in a moment, red-eyed and out of breath, and she hugged me so hard my glasses bent.

Then I locked myself in the supply closet, because my second phone had been buzzing in my pocket for an hour.

I answered on the sixth ring.

"Delaney," said my chairman.

He sounded like a man who'd been awake all night.

"A woman was fired in front of the floor this morning. I have it from a source inside the building."

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