"Mark, tell me," she whispered, "did you think I wouldn't notice the discrepancy in the shipping manifests?"

"The numbers for the third quarter aren't just disappointing," Romi said, her voice a calm, low velvet that made every executive in the room sit up straighter. "They’re an insult to the work we do here."

The fluorescent lights of the boardroom hummed, a sharp contrast to the heavy silence Romi commanded just by standing at the head of the mahogany table. As the CEO of Rain Logistics, she didn't just manage people; she orchestrated them.

Mark swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on his trembling tablet. "It was a clerical error, Romi. I—"

"Good." She picked up her leather portfolio and headed for the door. At the threshold, she paused and looked back over her shoulder with a sharp, knowing smirk. "And order some coffee. It’s going to be a very long night."

"I don't pay for errors," she interrupted, leaning in so the scent of her expensive perfume filled his personal space. "I pay for precision. I pay for the best. If I wanted excuses, I’d hire a politician."