Jarod looked around in shock. He was once again trapped within the Centre and this time it was all Sydney’s fault. Sydney’s idea, Sydney’s approach to the Triumvirate. And now, here he was trapped again by the person he trusted the most.
Jarod looked around his new location. He had to admit, there was a great view. The exterior walls were made of one-way glass that let in the sunlight and let the room’s inhabitant look out to the ocean. The interior was well appointed with soft leather sofas, a mini-refrigerator full of whatever it wanted to drink, and even the best meals the Centre’s Michelin Star chef could create (even if he did coordinate the meals with Sydney, darn it). The desk was the highlight of the room. Three foot by five foot and full of nifty electronic gadget, all there for Jarod to play with (which he didn’t want to do, Sydney!).
A soft buzzing sound brought Jarod out of his internal condemnation of Sydney’s actions. He reached across the desk to the phone and pushed the flashing button.
“Yes?” he asked.
“Sir, your 3:00 appointment is here”, the disembodied voice replied.
Jarod closed his eyes and sighed. “Thank you. Send him in”.
Yes, Jarod thought, he was once again trapped with in the Centre and it was all Sydney’s fault. Afterall, who better to lead the Centre as its Chairman than the biggest money-maker in the company’s history.