"You're trying to play me," Braddock said, though his voice had lost its booming bravado. He tightened his grip on Marcus’s arm, desperate to maintain control of a situation that was rapidly sliding through his fingers. "Miller doesn't take calls from random employees. You're just trying to scare me."
"Random employees?" Maya laughed, a sharp, humorless sound. She stepped closer to Braddock, pointing a shaking finger directly at his chest. "I am the Vice President of Operations. And the man you just assaulted, the man whose tablet you broke, the man you are currently holding hostage in his own building, is Marcus Sterling. Look at his face, you idiot! Look at the painting on the wall behind the desk!"
Braddock's eyes darted to the massive, abstract portrait hanging in the VIP alcove behind the reception area. It was a stylized, modern piece, but the jawline, the intense eyes, the commanding presence... it was undeniably the man standing in handcuffs next to him.
The blood drained completely from Braddock's face. The two younger guards instantly backed away, dropping their hands from their belts as if touching Marcus would burn them. "I... I thought he was a delivery guy..." Braddock stammered, his mind racing to find an excuse. "He's wearing sweatpants!"
"He's wearing sweatpants because it's a Saturday and he owns the damn building!" Maya screamed.