She left the meeting. . . writing prompt response

Tuesday's Writing prompt was: She left the meeting. . .

Here is my response:

She left the meeting fuming, her blood bubbling just below the boiling point. Jane marched down the wide corridor, her high heels clacking against the marble tile. When she reached the ladies’ room, she whacked the metal plate on the door with the heel of her hand. The door flung inward, hit the wall, then slammed into her hip.

“Ouch! Damn!”

Jane rounded the corner, tears welling in her eyes, and almost smacked heads with her assistant.

Sarah screeched and hopped backwards.

One hand to her chest, the other pressed against the wall, Jane halted. “I’m sorry, Sarah.”

“Are you okay, Ms. Rouge?”

“Fine. I’m just fine Sarah. Thank you.”

Sarah arched one thin, perfectly plucked eyebrow.

“I’m fine,” she reassured Sarah, patting her young assistant on the shoulder. “You go ahead.” Jane checked her watch. “We have that appointment with the owners of Just Naturals. Can you make certain we have sample bags ready for our guests?”

Sarah bobbed her head. “Yes, Ms. Rouge.” She walked past Jane, pulled the door partially open and looked back. “Are you sure?”

Jane offered the girl a half-hearted smile and nodded. “Yes. I’ll be there in a few.”

As soon as the door shut behind Sarah, Jane flipped the latch and locked the door, resting her forehead against the maple wood. Someone had hacked into the network, stolen or deleted the formulas for her new lipstick line. Jane blew out a breath, gave the door a hard pound with a fist, and pushed away from it.

“Who?” Jane asked no one tossing her bag oil canvas bag onto one of the eggplant chaise lounge chairs. She needed to verbalize the issue, say the words, and hear them so her mind could click into an answer.

“Six months of research and development. Six months,” she mumbled hitting her balled up hand against her thigh as she paced the plush lavender carpet in the sitting area of the ladies’ room. “Six months down the drain.” She pivoted on a thin heel and strode back in the opposite direction then turned again when she reached the door vestibule.

Jane paused mid-stride and scraped her fingers through her hair. “A competitor!” But who?

She began her pacing again and stopped when she caught her image in the mirror that hung over the granite vanity. Disheveled hair, pink splotchy cheeks, and her blouse stuck out of her skirt. “Eek!”

Jane opened one of the drawers she had specially made for the ladies’ room. Inside, it held various samples of her company’s products. Her thought had been that if she made them available not only would her employees use the products and take some for their family and friends to use, but any corporate visitors that came to her offices would also use them whether they meant to buy from her or not. One way or another, they would have her product.

It had proven to be a brilliant idea on more than one occasion, she thought, as she reached in the lipstick section and lifted out her signature color, tangerine. Her face put back together, hair in place, and clothes straightened, Jane looked at her reflection. Her shoulders slumped.

Someone had stolen from her company. Someone had stolen from her company using her credentials.