Vance swallowed hard. He looked around the store, terrified that other customers might walk in. He ran a hand over his slicked-back hair and turned to Maya with a cold, corporate detachment.
“Maya, you are a liability to this store right now,” Vance said, his voice dropping to a low, threatening hiss. “This is a platinum client. If you hand it over this second, I’ll ask Mrs. Kensington not to press charges. I’ll just fire you quietly.”
“I don’t have it!” Maya’s voice finally cracked, a tear spilling over her lashes and tracing a wet line down her cheek. “I swear to God, I didn’t take it.”
“Then prove it,” Vance snapped. He pointed a perfectly manicured finger at the floor. “Take off the uniform jacket. Empty your pockets. Now.”
Maya let out a small, strangled gasp. “You want me to strip in the middle of the showroom?”
“I want you to show Mrs. Kensington that you aren’t a common criminal,” Vance shot back. “Unless you have something to hide. Take it off, Maya. Or I’ll have security hold you down until the police arrive.”
The cruelty in his voice was casual, practiced. He wasn’t looking for the truth; he was looking for a sacrifice to appease the wealthy woman waving her checkbook.
Mrs. Kensington crossed her arms, a triumphant smirk twisting her lips. “Check her shoes, too. God knows where people like her hide things.”
Maya’s shoulders slumped. The fight drained out of her, replaced by a crushing, visible wave of humiliation. Her fingers trembled violently as she reached for the top button of her fitted black blazer. She fumbled with the plastic button, her breath hitching in her throat as she slipped the jacket off her shoulders.
