SIR
The walkie-talkie clicks, telling me she’s let go of the button, and I can imagine her swinging round in her chair, clicking through the camera screens on her computer to try and spot him.
“Holy shit.”
“I'm not doing this.” I say into the device as I quickly look back over my shoulder at him.
Yep, it's definitely him.
He's watching Violet, who's dancing on the pole at the moment, sipping a glass of whiskey, completely unaware that his secretary is 20 feet away from him.