Winter Between Us

"The frost queen is here!" I ignored the whispered jab. Kept walking, my heels tapping across the white marble floor. The secretariat staff worked in an open-plan area I passed each morning on the way to my office. Either they assumed I was hard of hearing or they truly didn't realize how loudly they spoke; I couldn't tell. I didn't care, either. I was here to run the company, and their stale little nicknames meant nothing as long as the work got done. And it did. But I couldn't really fault the lack of imagination. People had been calling me the Frost Queen since I started here. That included employees, business contacts, and the social set I moved through. Even my half brother used the Frost Queen label. Sometimes he swapped queen for something cruder. I stepped into my office. The room's white, monochrome design probably reinforced the nickname in everyone's mind. I shrugged off my blazer, draped it over the white leather chair, and sat down. The glass desk was immaculate. No family photos sat on it, no pointless ornaments or trip keepsakes. Stark. Minimal. Cold. Three walls of my office were glass from floor to ceiling. Two looked out over the busy city and offered a sweeping view. On the third side, the secretarial staff crossed between desks or settled in, starting a new day. A button on my desk could frost that wall for privacy, but I used it only when someone was with me. I pressed the button that connected me to my assistant and said, "Imani, bring me the report."