A slight smile curved into her lips as she remembers his smell. Her eyes sparkled and the corners of her eyes crinkled. The familiarity of it was beyond her, but going exhausted she forgot it as easy as breathing and as she had never been the athletic type of girl, and the last time she'd run this far was when she'd petted a dog and thought it was her who woke it up. It started barking at her. She panicked and ran for it. The dog chased her. She tried to distract it with things from the ground, but it didn't work. It seemed like she had been going for hours, but it had only been two minutes. She climbed up a bench and cried out for help, but it was disastrous. And that my friend was the last occasion she'd petted a dog.
However, she can't stand this anymore, she hates running. She seemed breathless and stopped, catching her breath as she glanced at the cobblestones that were wet with the night's rain and made slippery by the wintry temperature. Casting the water film into ice, and luckily, she was wearing boots. So as she walked on the streets near their building to the poorly design bus shelter she tried to think and visualizing herself interacting with the director at important meetings. The problem was she'd always slip into "auto-pilot".
Even though she was walking, it feels more like the sidewalk is a conveyor belt; like she was a cow in the slaughterhouse heading toward the captive bolt. Her boss likes to discourage her while appearing to be professional. She knew there were always things to be nice and means to be nasty. He was a genius at the latter.
She rushed into her office building, avoiding the blistering London winter chill. When she stepped out of the elevator on the 18th floor, she placed her things on her desk, reached the little organizer in one grip and adjusted her coat with her free hand, drew a deep breath, and opened the cabin door of her Boss's Assistant Manager.
She hated Adah, she had the figure and the looks to turn women half her age jealous. Her skin was as pale as china, but she was bossy as hell, and she talks like a parrot.
Catherine peeled off her trench coat and gloves and was about to take a seat opposite to her when she heard her boss barking her name.
Oh, Shit, how the hell does he know she was here? Sighing, Catherine reached his office.
"Good morning, Mr. Nasir," she said.
Catherine's boss was a compact, clear-cut man, with precise features, a lot of very soft raven hair, and thoughtful dark brown eyes. He was a half Irish, half Pakistan, with that combination. He had a look of wariness, which could change when he felt relaxed or pleased, which was rare in these impossible days.
"Catherine, I need you to check with Derek if he was ready enough for the board. I need you to make sure that he knows what the board requires to understand" He said without a pause then added.
"The scope and components of a comprehensive security program need to lighten up enough so the board can allocate sufficient resources. Am I clear?" His brows knitted.
"Yes Sir." She scratched the back of her head.
"And tell him he requires to establish a repeatable, measurable program that helps develop our situation, I need that report on my desk before the end of the day," Mr. Nasir added.
"He should remember that a plan-build-run model was a useful means for executives to view the functions of an IT security program; so help me God if he messes this up! We will end up jobless, am I understood?"
"Yes Sir." Catherine sighed as she walked, whining as the frosty morning air earlier still makes her shiver.
"By the way, I wanted you here earlier!" he asserted, not returning my greetings.
Never mind that she had come here a little earlier than normal just to prepare the boardroom. He took his coffee and gulped down half the contents before he continued!
"You will have to reprint page ten before we start in twenty minutes and make certain to let everyone know that we have the new CEO joining us later." He checked his platinum watch and turned his back to her, returning to his laptop.
"Yes Sir" Catherine strode out and made it to the typing team for help.