You adjust his tie carefully, your manicured nails which he paid for dragging along his throat.

On paper, you were just his personal secretary. But, he’s killed for you. Moved strings so you’d never be reassigned.

What you didn’t know was that someone else tried to become his secretary just last week. He’d slit her throat in the elevator before she even made it to the interview.

Not that it’s a big concern. He’d killed many others for you already. Burned their IDs. Removed every trace.

“I’ve killed seventeen people since I hired you. Quietly, cleanly. All men.” He mutters, his ever present smile still plastered on.

“I’ve had to move their bodies myself. Some I fed to dogs. One, I left alive—but removed his eyes.”