The Chief of Staff's tone was gentle, his wording impeccable, every word slick with the practiced polish of office politics. But to Sharon, it was even more grating than Fury's line about "serving her country."
Like hell I believe you, you rotten old bastard!
Sharon cursed inwardly and hung up.
She slipped her phone into her suit pocket and looked down at her faintly trembling fingertips. In the end, she forced down the resentment rising in her throat and turned toward the elevator.
She hated it, but disobeying orders would be worse. She might as well pretend... a dog had bitten her!
The elevator doors opened. She stepped in and pressed the button for the top floor.
As the floor numbers climbed, she carefully straightened her collar in the mirrored steel wall, tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and pulled her lips into a professional smile.
The elevator arrived.
She stepped out, walked straight to the heavy wooden door of the President's office, and knocked twice.
"Come in."
Yongye's voice came from inside, smug with I knew you'd come. She could practically smell how badly he needed a punch through the door.
Sharon pushed the door open and entered.
Yongye sat behind his desk in a swivel chair, legs crossed, holding a cup of freshly brewed tea. He raised it to her, his grin as bright as the Manhattan sun at noon.
"Had a change of heart?" The question carried more than one meaning.
Sharon closed the door and stood before the desk, her back perfectly straight. She reached behind her neck and undid the top button of her blouse in one brisk motion.
"Mr. President. I really am not suited to be your secretary."
"But my superior said that if I left in a huff and