Monteford House
an excerpt

Pat shook his head. “Sasha Monteford, or whoever does the hiring when she’s not around. This is just ridiculous. I’m sorry, but this is ridiculous. You just got here, so you won’t have heard the stories about this lady.”
“What kind of stories?” the stranger asked, taking her feet off the galleys and regarding him with keen interest.
“At the slightest perception of an insult, or whatever, or even with no excuse at all, she’ll show somebody the door. I heard one story about…” Pat let his words die away as he became filled with a steadily rising lake of horror. He had taken a couple of steps into Celeste’s office, but he retreated now to the doorway and gripped it for support. “I… I don’t think I’ve caught your name yet.”
The woman in the woolen shirt and boots pursed her lips and lifted herself out of Celeste’s chair. “No, you haven’t, Mr. Donnelly, and I’ll bet that you weren’t awarded any scholarships as an undergraduate for your powers of perception. But I’ll grant you, at least, that you had the cleverness to stop yourself before you got to the really good stories about me.” She circled around the desk and offered one bandaged hand to the somewhat human-shaped block of ice frozen in the doorway. “If I had any friends, they’d call me Sasha.”
Pat willed his limbs out of their stasis long enough to dart his hand forward, touch Sasha’s bandage ever so briefly, and yank it back. “I…” he said, slumping his shoulders in misery. “Won’t need to be escorted out. I can just grab my stuff and be out of here in five minutes. Should I give my House access card to the HR guy or just leave it with Margaret at the front desk?”