At six sharp I was outside Hugh's office door, waiting for Lois to get back to her desk and let me in. All employees were forbidden to communicate with Hugh other than via his PA. At four minutes past six I realized that Lois had gone home for the day, so I knocked on the smooth walnut door and waited for Hugh to answer it himself. Instead, he called for me to come in.

He had a file bearing my name open on his lap, and didn't look up from it as I stood in the doorway of his office.

"Donna Clarke," he said, without making eye contact. He practically spat out my name. I remained where I was, taking this chance to scrutinize Hugh Lancing for the first time. He radiated power and money, from the cut of his suit-most probably Savile Row-to the understated style of his black leather shoes. His thick hair showed no signs of thinning or receding even though he must have been around forty. It fell across his eyes in a thick, dark-blond curtain. I just knew he'd had the same haircut since he was about eight. A shadow of light-brown stubble on his strong jaw was the only trace of imperfection about him. In any other circumstance, I'd have found him attractive.

Hugh chose this moment to acknowledge my presence properly and nodded at a chair opposite his desk. I sat down, crossing my legs at the ankle. I folded my arms and eyeballed him, determined not to let myself be bullied.

"On paper, your track record's not bad," he said. "I have you singled out for good things."

"Thank you," I said. I knew he liked people to call him "sir," but I wasn't having any of that. I don't treat people with respect until they've earned it. I would just give him the bare bones of politeness but no more.