Richard jerked the paper away.
"Are you going to touch me now?"
"Sir, that's a hotel document. I need it back."
He crumpled it.
"Then take it."
He threw the paper toward her.
It struck the counter and fell to the floor.
Emily stared at the ruined document.
She could feel the attention of the entire lobby gathering around them. A family near the entrance had stopped walking. A woman in a cream-colored coat held her phone at chest level. One of the bell attendants stood motionless beside the luggage cart.
Emily bent down to retrieve the paper.
When she straightened, Richard was standing much closer than before.
"You know what your problem is?" he demanded.
Emily said nothing.
"You think that little uniform makes you important."
"Please step back, sir."
His expression changed.
It was a small change, almost invisible, but Emily recognized it. His embarrassment had become anger, and his anger was searching for somewhere to land.
"What did you just say?"
"I asked you to give me a little space."
Richard laughed.
"You're refusing to help me?"
"I'm trying to help you, sir."
"Then act like it!"
He gestured sharply toward the luggage cart.
The cart had been left beside a decorative pillar. One of its wheels rested against the edge of a floor mat, and a suitcase had shifted slightly toward the side.
Richard turned toward it, still talking.
"Get someone to move this ridiculous thing. It's blocking the entire lobby."
Emily stepped around the counter.
"I'll move it, sir."
She reached for the handle.
Richard grabbed the opposite side at the same moment.
"Not like that!"
He pulled the cart toward himself.
The front wheels caught against the uneven edge of the mat.
The cart lurched sideways.
Emily tried to release the handle, but Richard's sudden movement brought the cart against her legs. She stumbled backward, reached for the pillar, and missed.
Her right foot slid across the polished marble.
She fell hard.
The sound of her body striking the floor cut through the lobby.
One suitcase toppled from the cart and landed beside her.
For a moment, nobody moved.
Emily sat on the floor with one hand braced behind her. Her other hand gripped her left knee. Pain spread through her leg, and the shock of the fall made it difficult to breathe.
Richard looked down at her.
Instead of offering his hand, he frowned.
"Good grief. What are you doing?"
Emily stared at him in disbelief.
"My leg," she whispered.
He glanced toward the watching guests.
"You're making a scene."
A woman near the entrance gasped.
"She fell because you pulled the cart!"
Richard turned toward her.
"Stay out of this."
Emily tried to stand.
The moment she put weight on her leg, pain shot through her knee. She cried out and sank back onto the floor.
That was when the first person rushed toward her.
It was Marcus, a young bell attendant who had worked at the hotel for only three months.
"Emily!"
He dropped beside her.
"Don't move. Are you hurt?"
"I think my knee—"
"Don't try to stand."
Marcus looked up at Richard.
"What happened?"
Richard straightened his jacket.
"She lost her balance."
"You pulled the cart."
"I moved a piece of luggage. If she can't do her job without falling over, that's not my responsibility."
Marcus's jaw tightened.
"She was trying to help you."
Richard pointed at him.
"Be careful."
"Sir, she needs medical attention."
"Then call someone. Why are you standing here arguing with me?"
Marcus turned to another employee.
"Call the first-aid team. Now."
A young receptionist hurried away.
Emily looked around the lobby, embarrassed by the number of people watching her. She wanted to disappear. She wanted to stand up, return to her desk, and pretend none of this had happened.
But she couldn't move.
Her eyes filled with tears.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
Marcus looked startled.
"What?"
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause trouble."
Marcus's expression softened.
"Emily, you haven't done anything wrong."
Richard heard him.
"Oh, please. Stop acting like she's a victim."
A man's voice came from the entrance.
"She is sitting on the floor because you lost control of yourself."
Everyone turned.
A tall, silver-haired man stood beneath the glass entrance doors. He wore a charcoal suit, a white shirt, and a dark red tie. His expression was so controlled that it made his anger more frightening rather than less.
Two security officers stood several feet behind him.
The man looked at Emily.
Then he looked at Richard.