Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 42829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 214(@200wpm)___ 171(@250wpm)___ 143(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 42829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 214(@200wpm)___ 171(@250wpm)___ 143(@300wpm)
Charges? What the fuck! I didn’t take anything.
“Hey! Are you okay?” Elsa asked as they walked out the back door.
“I think so. Just some strange stuff going on at the last house I stayed at.”
“Is it going to be a big problem?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. It’s got my spidey senses going,” Mack confessed.
“Aren’t you seeing that lawyer? Maybe you should ask him?” Elsa suggested.
“I don’t want to bother him. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“Better safe than sorry. See you tomorrow?” she asked.
“Yes. I’m on at lunch again.”
“Awesome. Me, too. Talk to him, Mack.”
“Have a good evening,” Mack answered, not promising anything.
He thrust his phone into his pocket, not wishing to read any more of the vicious texts Joanie was sending. Walking toward Grey’s office, Mack tried to figure out what to do. He was still debating the best move when he reached the front doors.
Mack went to the security desk and gave them his name and Grey’s. When asked, he provided them with his ID and watched them scan it into the system.
“Mr. Bradford added you to his approved after-hours visitor list. Here’s a card to hold on to. It will open the elevator doors for you. It is only for your use and will be revoked if you share it with others. I’ll recognize you after your first few visits, but other guards will request to see your ID after that.”
Mack took the card and his ID back. “Thanks. What floor is Mr. Bradford’s office on?”
“The top one.”
Mack thanked him again and walked to the elevator. Just as the guard had advised, after hours, access was limited if you didn’t have an employee ID or one of these special cards. He swiped the card over the sensor and stepped inside.
When the doors opened on the top floor, Mack looked around. “Holy crap.”
“The perfect impression to make on a prospective client,” Grey told him with a laugh.
“The guard alerted you I was on my way up?” Mack asked, walking toward Grey.
“The elevator notifies whoever is on this floor. It’s a safety measure.”
“You must deal with some bad guys to need so many layers of security,” Mack observed.
“Usually there’s no trouble. Let me show you where my office is, and I’ll grab my stuff. I’ve done everything I can for tonight.”
“You work too hard,” Mack suggested.
“Too hard is relative. I like to stay busy,” Grey explained as he led Mack down the hall to a large office with a gorgeous view. “And before you moved in, I just went home to an empty house.”
Mack walked to the window to look out over the city. Grey must have been standing here when he walked by. The man bun must have given him away. He checked on Poutine, feeling totally outclassed. The small stuffie was still hidden.
He is really a big deal.
“Whatever you’re thinking, stop it. This office is amazing, and I enjoy it every day. It feels like home. I hope Armando’s is like that for you.”
Mack had turned around at Grey’s order to “stop it.” The comparison to Armando’s made him think. That thought had struck him when he’d applied for a job. The restaurant and its family management did feel like that was where he should be. Like home.
He nodded. “I’m glad this is a happy place. Dragging yourself into work every day because you hate it there is the absolute worst.”
“Now, you’re finished working. I’m finished working. Shall we go home?” Grey suggested.
Mack felt the corners of his lips curl upward at that thought. “I shouldn’t think of your home as a refuge already, but I do.”
“I’m glad. Let’s get out of here.”
Mack watched Grey grab his suit jacket from the back of the chair. He noted Grey didn’t bring anything home. He hadn’t noticed him with the traditional briefcase the night before, either. “Don’t you take stuff in an attaché case or something?”
“I don’t believe in homework. That’s why I stay late. When I walk out of here, I should be set up for the next day.”
“That’s probably a healthy attitude.”
“I hope so,” Grey commented and pressed a hand to Mack’s back to steer him out of the room.
The warmth of his touch felt so good. Much better than it should. Mack worked hard to not lean into that guiding hand or let his expression tell what it did to him. Fuck! A simple touch. What would happen when they…
“Where did you go, Little boy?”
Mack struggled for something to say that didn’t make him look like a total weirdo that had spaced out because of something so simple. “I had a bunch of crazy text messages from the guy and his girlfriend I’ve been living with.”
“Really? What was so strange about them?” Grey asked, ushering him into the elevator.
“They say I stole a vase that was on the bookshelf in the family room where I slept. I didn’t ever even see a vase,” Mack said, trying to shrug it off.