Sweet suffering Jesus Christ.

My palms twitch with the urge to reach out and strangle the life out of my previously beloved housekeeper. The twitch tapers off when her eyes fill with panic and a deep red flush seeps upwards from her neck. She is upset. I am a little surprised by the fact that I do not like the fact that she is upset. Taking a breath so deep it tickles my balls, I inventory the situation.

Being locked into GEH for two weeks is not that much of an issue.

Being locked into GEH for two weeks with only Mrs Jones for company is not that much of an issue.

Being locked into GEH with Dr Bitchface for two weeks is a serious issue.

Perfectly on cue, her condescending tone fills the room.

"Excuse me, did you hear me? Under no circumstances I am consenting to being locked into this egotistical cave for two weeks with you and those unfortunate enough to be in your employ. I am a frontline Doctor, and I need to be out there helping people. I demand that you-"

"Excuse me. How dare you assume that anyone in Mr Grey's employ is unfortunate by reason of so being. You, young lady, really ought to have better manners... it might just improve your beside manner! Doctor indeed. Back in my day, basic manners were a prerequisite for those hoping to enter the field of medicine. I see things have changed."

Mrs Jones' tirade was as swift as it was unexpected.

My mouth threatens to fall open slightly but I am nothing if not in control of my own orifices. It would appear that Mrs Jones... likes me. I am not accustomed to my staff liking me and it makes me feel all kinds of funny down in my abdominal region. Either that, or that rump steak that tasted a little off at lunch has impacted my bowels.

It's probably the steak.

"Thank you, Mrs Jones," I murmur. "That will be fine. Would you please go and look up the contact details for the sales rep attached to SecureCore14? It will be in the system somewhere. If you could bring me his name and telephone number and perhaps he may be able to override this lockdown remotely."

I don't think he will be able to do any such thing but it would appear best to separate the two women in my office who are looking at each other with such intense dislike that I'd be turned on if the circumstances weren't so dire.

"Yes, Mr Grey. Of course."

Mrs Jones leaves the room, throwing a scathing glare at Dr Steele as she does so. I make a mental note to give her a substantial raise. The woman's got sass. I like sass.

"Yes, Mr Grey. Of Course."

Dr Steele's high pitched, mockery of Mrs Jones rankles deep and I level her with a disgusted stare of disbelief.

"How old are you?" I demand angrily. "Do you even hold a medical license or are you just an escaped mental patient who likes to play dress up?"

The minute I say it, I become immediately suspicious. What if she is an escaped mental patient who likes to play dress up? It would explain so much. Her rudeness, her complete disregard for the social hierarchy I sit atop and her utter lack of admiration for me and my achievements. Yes... yes, she is quite possibly on the run from some high security facility. Jesus Christ what if she is armed?

Taylor's locked out.

I'm locked in.

What a shit show.

She reaches down into her leather satchel and dramatically fishes out her photographic ID. She takes a step forward and waves it violently under my nose and I take a hasty step backwards. I have very sensitive nasal cavities and that cheap plastic would do untold damage. I see her medical credentials sail past me and rest assured that she is who she says she is.

A total bitch.

With multiple medical degrees.

An intelligent, accomplished bitch,

"Very well," I concede dryly. "You are indeed a Doctor... just a very immature, judgmental one. Why don't you take a seat in the corner there and await Mrs Jones' return with the relevant contact information. Please be under no illusions, I will do all I can to remove you from my premises with the utmost speed. You are no more welcome here than you wish to be here."

I retreat to sit behind my desk, satisfied that I have had the last word.

She does not sit where I indicated.

If she were a dog, she would never succeed at Crufts.

"Immature?" She scoffs, "I am not immature, Christian. I just loathe the devoted secretary vibe your Mrs Jones oozes. It's quite sad that in this day and age, a woman should still feel the need to exist solely to facilitate a man's existence. She can do much better."

God grant me the serenity. My eyes hit the roof.

"Yes, yes," I say tiredly, fixating upon my computer screen. "You are a modern day superhero intent on smashing through traditional gender roles. My heartfelt congratulations. However, it might interest you to know that some of the most high profile, high stress and highly paid positions at GEH are held by women. It might also interest you to know that Mrs Jones is much more than an employee... if these things do not interest you, might I be so bold as to invite you to mind your own damned business."

She shoots me a glare, but says nothing.

Grey: 1

Dr Bitchface: 0

Her phone shrills and she saves face by answering it. Her tone instantly morphs into the consummate professional and my eyebrows shoot into my hairline. If I didn't know better... I'd testify that Dr Steele was a polite, sharp and competent Doctor. She rattles off answers to questions that are obviously being posed to her by a junior colleague. She's polite, patient and... borderline fucking pleasant.

It's not her, it's me.

How interesting.

It's never been me before.

She ends the calls and begins pacing around my office. Her PPE makes her look like the traditional evil scientist in a Bond movie and I allow myself to mock her in the safety of my head. It's a shame really. It's obvious that she's a good looking woman, even under all that medical gear. If she'd played her cards right, she might have won herself a no strings attached fuck across my desk.

Not now, though.

I'd never put my penis someplace where it would be in any danger.

This woman is so poisonous her vagina definitely has teeth.

I cross my legs behind my desk just to be safe.

"How much longer?" She suddenly snaps. "Where has... Mrs Jones gone? It surely can't take this long to look up a name in a computer for crying out loud."

"Mrs Jones has been gone for a grand total of 236 seconds. I see patience is also something you do not possess. It's probably a good thing that today is your last day in your current employment. I would have made it my personal mission to make sure you were fired if not."

She halts her pacing an arches a dark brow.

"You think you have that kind of pull? Don't make me laugh. You need to behave yourself, sweetie."

I close my eyes and exhale sharply through my nose. I have a paddle in my playroom that would cure this heathen of so many ills. I allow myself a very brief moment to imagine how beautifully satisfying it would be to turn her pale, almost Celtic skin a more suitable shade of abashed red.

"You think I don't? Everything and everyone has a price, sweetie."

She glares.

"You are everything everyone says you are and then some. I don't know how you manage to fit your big head through the doorway."

"I pivot."

She snorts. It's sort of attractive, in a petulant kind of way. Her pacing resumes and I contemplate billing her for the frayed ends she will eventually wear in my outrageously expensive carpet. It would be hilarious, if nothing else. She shoots furtive glances over at me, silently encouraging me to argue with her about something, anything.

I deliberately bore my eyes into my email.

Not today, Satan.

Just as she's about to open her mouth, Mrs Jones emerges from the hallway. She walks straight past Dr Steele as if she were not there and I mentally double the raise she is line for an accept the scrap of paper she hands me. Her neat cursive lists the name of the sales rep as a Dean McGuire with his cellphone number and email.

"Thank you, Mrs Jones. Would you be so kind as to escort Dr Steele to the-"

"I'm going absolutely nowhere. I want to hear the efforts you're going to make to release me from this dungeon firsthand. Are we clear, Christian?"

"Mr Grey," I correct, yet again, through painfully gritted teeth.

She smirks. The mask cannot hide it.

"Not in this lifetime."

I turn away from her for fear of leaping over my desk and wringing her neck.

"Mrs Jones, would you please go and ring Taylor and find out from him whether Andrea has gotten home safely. If she has, please instruct him to return to Escala and await hearing from me. You may use the main conference room to make the call."

It's not that I don't want Mrs Jones to see me being disrespected by this imp. It's an entirely reasonable request made at a reasonable time and Mrs Jones duly obliges, leaving the room silently. I take a deep breath and reach out for my desk phone. Dean McGuire better have some kind of miracle up his sleeve for me.

I need Lucifer to be exorcised from my office no matter the cost.

He answers on the first ring and I waste no time in filling him on the crisis. He is a good listener is Dean and I make it all the way through the sorry drama before he opens his mouth.

"I am terribly sorry, Mr Grey, there is nothing that can be done."

No, no, no... this cannot be happening.

"Dean," I grit out. "I don't think you understand the seriousness of this situation. I have a Doctor here that must be released so that she might save the world. She's quite adamant that she is the only person equipped to so do and far be it for you or I to get in the way of her mission."

Dr Steele's glare could melt... well, steal.

"I appreciate that, Mr Grey, but SecureCore14's lockdown function cannot be undone until the requisite time has elapsed. It was designed by the defence contractors who oversee all of POTUS' emergency bunkers. It is impenetrable when in a state of lockdown, from inside or outside. I am sorry... but you are not going to be able to leave for two weeks. There is simply nothing that can be done."

Even though this was the anticipated answer, horror threatens to drown me. I hang up the phone without even the courtesy of a goodbye and feel her furious eyes bore into my soul.

"Well?" she demands. "What is this Dean going to do to get me the hell out of here?"

Here goes nothing.

I pin her with my best CEO stare.

"There is nothing that be done. Until the passage of two weeks has occurred, there is no possible ingress or egress to this building. I appreciate that this is not the answer you were hoping for and nor is it the one I was hoping for. However, there are living quarters in the penthouse and I shall have Mrs Jones set up a room for you. The kitchen is stocked sufficiently for some months and I believe there is also a wide selection of clothes that is kept for my female staff somewhere that you are most welcome to. There should really be no need for you and I to see each other from this point on so if you would like to make your way to-"

She lets out some kind of stifled shriek that stops me in my tracks. Her cellphone is ripped from her pocket and she rather manically dials someone.

"Who are you calling?"

She rips the mask from her face and spits the answer, her eyes ablaze with rage.

"The police! This is an abduction!"

I drop my head into my hands with a groan.

Fuck. My. Life.

...

AN: Because Sundays are for writing!