Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
“Ma’am,” I hear him say from behind me. I turn my head to look back at him and find that he came to stand behind me. He’s not looking at me, but down at his phone, typing something in. I wonder what the heck he’s doing. It was almost like he was waiting for me. I don't say anything, not wanting to be rude. Maybe he lives in the building.
He’s not a tall man, maybe five-eleven, which doesn’t seem so big after having Mason in my space. Mason’s more than a few inches over six foot. But what this man doesn’t have in height, he has in muscles. He looks like someone who used to wrestle, I think absently. His gray hair streaks over his once-solid black hair. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s in his early fifties.
The elevator dings, and he follows me on, hitting the button for both of us. When I step out, he follows me out the building and down the street. I start walking faster, unsure what the heck is going on.
“Miss Myers.” When he says my name, I stop and turn, and he almost runs into me. “I’m your security. No need to be scared of me.”
“Security?”
“Seems you like to wander. I’m here to make sure you don’t wander into trouble.”
“I don’t wander,” I fire back. He raises his eyebrows and smiles.
“Just doing my job, ma’am.”
His easy smile forces me to release the tension in my shoulders. Sometimes things would get a little scary when I walked home to my old apartment. It wasn’t in the nicest neighborhood. Heck, sometimes I didn’t even feel safe in my apartment.
That’s when it hits me. Why I slept so late. I hadn’t slept that good in as long as I could remember. Not since before my grandpa starting having his episodes.
I felt safe for the first time in what felt like an eternity, and that makes me smile back at the man.
I reach out, handing him one of the two muffins I’d grabbed from Mason’s kitchen. His smile grows. “I’m Kennedy, but I’m sure you know that already.”
“Brock,” he tells me, taking the muffin. “That’s awful sweet of you, ma’am.”
“How long did you stand outside the door this morning?” I ask as I turn and head towards Mason’s building.
“Mr. Foster called me around five.”
“Well, you must be hungry.” I take a bite of my muffin and he takes a bite of his. We make small talk as we walk to the office. I learn that Brock moved here six months ago when he got the job and is new to the city. I recommend a few local restaurants and cafes.
“So you don’t think he’s mad I’m late?” I ask, wondering if he has any information to clue me in.
“Said he had a few meetings to get to,” Brock says as we step off the elevator and onto our floor. Crap, that was probably something I should've known. I didn’t actually do any work yesterday, unless getting Mason off counted as work, and I’m guessing it does. The pit in my stomach comes back at the reminder of why I’m here. I didn’t spend the night in a boyfriend's bed.
I swallow the little lump in my throat, knowing this is going to be bad for me. I clearly get attached too quickly. It’s like the time Ben from second grade asked me to be his girlfriend and dumped me two days later. I remember crying to my grandpa for three days. One day longer than we were actually together. I didn’t even like him. He was always licking glue off his fingers and laughing about it. Somehow he still ended up as prom king when we graduated.
I shake the silly thoughts from my head. I watch Mason come out of his office, looking as good as he always does. The gray suit fits him so perfectly I wouldn't be shocked if someone told me he was born in it. Then I notice a stunning blonde with him. She looks like she’s ready to walk a runway.
A tight pencil skirt shows off her long legs, and it’s clear she has no problem getting into the thing. Her lips are painted red, reminding me I didn’t put on a speck of makeup this morning.
“I told you to wait at home,” Mason says, hurrying over towards me. The blonde follows him closely.
“I didn’t want to be any later.”
“This is your new assistant? You replaced me with her?” the blonde squeals, a look of murder crossing her face as her eyes narrow on me. She must be his last mistress…or assistant… Heck, I don’t even know what to call us. “She looks like she should be in high school.”
I look down at my pink dress. I thought it looked nice. But I do have my backpack on once again. I can’t seem to part with the thing. My grandpa gave it to me.