“What the hell does that mean? Because it sounds like more bullshit I’ll have to clean up with the press.” My tone is growing sharper.
“Oh, don't worry your pretty head about it. Your father and I have it covered.” He stands to walk to the side of my desk. His comment makes my jaw tick. Becoming COO at the age of thirty-five only served to expand his already swollen ego. He looks to my left and his face falls. “Who is that?”
Confused, I turn. My open computer shows Lunar Security’s leadership team headshots front and center. “It's just research into a potential security team.”
His eyes meet mine. “I could keep you safe, Fallon. You don’t need to hire a security detail.” He takes a step toward me.
“It’s for the company, Clay. Not for me.” I have to get out of here, otherwise I’m going to get stuck with him asking me out, yet again.
He looks at the screen again as I rise from my chair. I see his jaw clench for a brief moment, then a mask of calm washes over him. He leans closer to me. “How about dinner tonight?”
I slide my arms into my blazer, pulling my hair out of the collar to fall in waves down my back. “No can do. I have plans.” I snatch up my still wrapped sandwich, choosing to eat in Quinn’s office instead.
“With these security people?”
I walk around him to my office door, hinting he should exit as well, which thankfully he does.
“Not yet, I have a few things to iron out first.” I don’t mention that my plans are to meet Quinn for dinner because he will inevitably try tojoin. Locking my office, I throw a look over my shoulder. “See ya later.” I head to Quinn’s office to escape for a few moments.
“As Chief Operating Officer, I would like to be present for that security meeting, so when you schedule it, I expect to be informed.” The ice in his tone sends a chill down my spine. Rather than respond, I hold up a thumbs up as I continue walking away.
I don't bother changing for dinner. Even after a full day at the office my eyeliner is still sharp enough to cut. I decide to finish up a few tabloid responses and head straight to the restaurant from the office. Quinn had a meeting across town, so she texted saying she would meet me there. It’s after seven and most of the office lights have been turned off. I slip into the hallway and lock my door on my way out. With how Clay has been hovering more than usual, I wouldn’t put it past him to go into my office when I’m not there.
I feel a prickling sensation at the back of my neck. As I walk down the hall, the tension in my body grows. My skin crawls and I feel like I’m being watched. The next office over is fully glass and as I lean to peer in, I see movement. My heart drops and I yelp.
I roll my eyes when I realize it was just my reflection that scared the hell out of me. Huffing out an irritated breath, I continue toward my exit. My heart continues to race despite having worked late and locked up alone a thousand times.
The slam of a door behind me has me jumping out of my skin. Good thing I spend so much time in heels, otherwise that would have been RIP to my ankle.
“What the fuck?” I whip around ready to chew someone out when I see him. Over six feet, dressed in all black, wearing a skull mask with four small horns sticking out of the top. He stands there, with no response, just staring at me. My hands start to shake. My voice stops working.
An eternity passes where we just stare at each other; his eyes rake over my body, making my nipples pebble in response. The way he gripped my hair at the club, the control he took of me that night, has me wanting to go to this stranger now. I want to let him own my body, to turn this craving into something more.
These thoughts race through my mind until he takes a step toward me, the glint of a knife at his side. As if jump-started by a live wire, I spin and race to the elevator. His solid footfalls echo behind me, not rushing, but steadily heading toward me. I slam my hand on the elevator button over and over.
“Come on, come on.” My breath is coming in pants.Too slow, too slow.Giving up on the elevator, I run to the stairwell. Slamming through the door, I rush the first flight, my fear making me unsteady.
The crash of the door above me tells me he’s not far behind.
“Fallonnnn.” The smooth deep voice reaches me, sliding along my skin, creating this urge to turn back. It's the same voice from the club. I pause and turn, looking to the top of the stairs where he’s lording over me. His eyes skate up and down my body, taking in my pulse slamming in my throat, my shaking limbs, my hesitation. Deep laughter draws my attention to the door two floors above him.Fuck, he isn’t alone.There is a second masked man leaning down, head tilted to the side. I fumblewith my phone to call for help as I start running again.Keep moving your feet. Don't stop and please, for the love of god, don’t fall.Shit, no service.Why the fuck is there no service?My heart is hammering in my chest.
Another door slams, but this time it's below me. I screech to a halt, grabbing the railing to keep from plummeting down the next flight of stairs.
The masked man who gripped my throat Friday night starts toward me from below. The reminder of what he said that night sends zings straight to my clit – until I spot that he, too, carries a knife. In a flash, I’m shoving through the door on my left. I’m on the third floor, but I know there’s another stairwell at the opposite corner of the building.
“Help!” I yell, hoping someone is working late. Silence rings out as I race down the row of dimly lit cubicles into the reception area of this floor. I wince in pain as my hip catches a desk. Groaning in pain, I keep moving down the hall.
The door to the stairwell opens behind me, and I hear them enter the floor.
“Come on, Fallon. Don’t you want to play with us?” One of them calls to me as I continue around the corner. I only have one doorway and another hall until I get to the other stairwell.
I glance back over my shoulder again. They’re not much closer, but all three are taking slow, menacing steps toward me.
Once I’m in the stairwell, I grip the railing for dear life and race down the stairs and through the exit.
No one exits the building behind me, but that doesn't stop me from sprinting to my car. I don’t give a damn that the restaurant is walking distance away. Locking the doors with a resounding beep, I struggle to catch my breath. Torn between getting as far from the building aspossible and knowing that driving in my current state is not safe, I take several deep breaths, call it good and pull out of the parking lot.
I don't remember the drive over. The next thing I know, I’m walking into the restaurant and seeing Quinn in a corner booth with two glasses of red wine ready to go. Leather creaks as I throw myself down and snatch up the wine.
