Page 5 of Most Likely to Deny Love (Yearbook #2)

MIA

W ednesday. Hump day. Halfway through the week and all I could think about was dinner with my mom tonight, looming over me.

When I stepped into my office, I noticed it immediately. A small yellow square, placed perfectly in the center of my keyboard. My pulse quickened, a tiny flutter of anticipation cutting through the dread that had settled in my stomach.

I set my coffee down and reached for the note, the familiar scrawl making my fingers tingle.

Your potential is limitless.

Five words. Just five simple words, yet they hit me like a physical force. I read them again, running my thumb over the neat handwriting. For a brief moment, I allowed myself to imagine someone actually believing this about me. Someone who saw possibility where there were only flaws.

The fantasy was nice, but short-lived. I folded the note carefully and pulled open my desk drawer, adding it to my growing collection. Nine notes now, each one a small lifeline I couldn’t quite bring myself to trust.

As nice as the sentiment was, I knew better. My potential had very definite limits, most of them established by my mom years ago.

I sighed and turned on my computer, waiting for it to boot up. The familiar Catalyst logo appeared, followed by my inbox. And right at the top, bold and unread, was an email from Rebecca in HR.

Mandatory meeting. 9:30 AM. Third floor conference room.

“Fucking fantastic,” I muttered to the empty office. Rebecca, with her pinched smile and thinly veiled disdain, was the last person I wanted to deal with today.

I glanced at the clock. 9:15. Just enough time to finish my coffee and mentally prepare myself for whatever bullshit Rebecca was about to throw my way. If her niece Tiffany had filed some invented grievance about me, I swear to god...

I dragged in air, trying to calm the irritation bubbling up.

With a final huff of frustration, I stood and grabbed my tablet. Whatever this was, I’d handle it like I handled everything else. With a smile that didn’t reach my eyes and enough professionalism to choke on.

I stepped into the third-floor conference room to find Rebecca already seated, a stack of forms arranged in perfect alignment before her. She wore her usual expression, a blend of professional detachment and something I’d come to recognize as barely disguised contempt.

“Ms. Harris. Thank you for making time in your schedule.” She was a tall, broad shouldered woman, with light brown hair and icy blue eyes that always looked narrowed. Her voice was clipped, each word precisely enunciated as if she was speaking to someone who might struggle with basic comprehension.

“Of course.” I slid into a chair across from her, tablet at the ready. “How could I miss it?”

Rebecca offered a thin smile. “Indeed. As part of Catalyst’s commitment to transparency and accountability, we’re implementing new documentation protocols.”

She slid a thick packet across the table. The title read “Enhanced Performance Documentation Initiative” in bold letters across the top.

I removed the documents and flipped through the pages of forms and checklists. “What exactly am I looking at?”

“The board is concerned about resource allocation across departments. Moving forward, all managers will need to complete daily activity logs for themselves and their team members.”

My eyes darted up from the packet. “Daily logs? For an entire sales team?”

“Yes.” Rebecca’s smile widened slightly at my obvious dismay. “It’s quite comprehensive. Hours spent on each client account, detailed breakdowns of all sales activities, and weekly projection adjustments. There’s also a section for resource justification.”

The weight of the packet seemed to increase as I turned several more pages, my heart sinking. This would add hours of paperwork to my already packed schedule.

“Is this company-wide?” I already knew the answer.

“Of course,” Rebecca said smoothly. “Though we’re starting with the sales divisions since they utilize the most variable resources.” She pulled out another form. “This one needs to be filled out retroactively for the past two weeks. I’ll need it by Friday.”

Friday. Two days to reconstruct detailed accounts of every activity my team had performed over the past ten days while still managing current clients and preparing for tonight’s dinner from hell.

“I notice Porter isn’t here.” I kept my voice neutral.

Rebecca shuffled her papers. “Mr. Porter received his packet yesterday. We scheduled the meetings based on availability.”

Right. Convenient that Porter had a full day’s head start on what looked like a mountain of bureaucratic bullshit.

“These reports will be reviewed directly by management,” Rebecca continued, clearly enjoying herself now. “Particularly the resource justification sections. Given the company’s current financial situation, we need to ensure every dollar spent is generating appropriate returns.”

I nodded, pasting on my professional smile while mentally calculating how many hours of sleep I’d need to sacrifice to get this done by Friday.

“Is there anything else I should know?” I tucked the packet into my folder.

Rebecca consulted her notes with exaggerated thoroughness. “Oh, yes. One more thing. We’ll need weekly team assessments as well.” She pulled out yet another form. “This includes peer evaluations and performance metrics for each team member.”

“Weekly?” Disbelief colored my voice. “That’s excessive, even for enhanced accountability.”

Rebecca straightened in her chair. “The board disagrees. They are quite eager to see these reports implemented.”

“I see. Who, specifically, authorized or requested this work?”

Rebecca’s only reply was a raised eyebrow, letting me know that she found my question presumptuous.

I doubted Jack Sullivan would consider drowning managers in paperwork an efficiency improvement, but then I couldn’t think of anyone else in upper management that would bother to initiate something like this. So what did that leave me with? Rebecca was going rogue?

My mind was whirling, but I knew that arguing with her would only make things worse. Fuck.

“I understand.” I stood and squared my shoulders, my gaze flat. “I’ll make sure everything is completed on time.”

Rebecca nodded, her satisfaction practically radiating from her. “Excellent. Oh, and Mia?” The use of my first name felt like a trap. “Be sure to note any... special relationships within your team. We’re particularly interested in workplace dynamics.”

The implication was clear. She was fishing for something, watching me with those cold, calculating eyes.

“My team maintains thoroughly professional relationships,” I replied, meeting her gaze steadily. “As reflected in our quarterly numbers.”

“Of course.” Her knowing smile made my skin crawl. “That will be all.”

I walked out clutching the packet, my jaw clenched so tight it hurt. This wasn’t just busywork. This was targeted. But why?

Whatever game Rebecca was playing, I’d have to figure it out later. Right now, I had forms to fill out, a team to manage, and my mother waiting to critique my life choices over dinner. And somewhere in the midst of all that, I needed to find time to breathe.

This day just kept getting better.