“We’re not convinced,” Mrs. Malone said.
“I don’t know what else to do,” I insisted. “I’m trying my best to make this happen.”
“Try harder,” she said, and then hung up on me.
Using all my willpower to not scream and hurl my phone across the office, I went back to my desk and dropped into my chair, putting my head in my hands. Not even ten a.m., and my entire day had gone to hell. Speaking of which, I had no time to sit here and stew.
When I looked up, I saw Andrew heading toward me. Probably to check on my nonexistent progress. But before I could say anything, the speaker on my desk phone chirped as one of the security guys in the lobby told me that my lunch delivery was on its way up.
Dammit, Ford.
I dropped my head onto my desk with a thump. This was too much.
“Are you okay?” Andrew asked from behind me, sounding worried. “What’s up? How can I help?
I felt his hand on my back, between my shoulder blades, rubbing gently. It felt so nice that I let out a soft little moan.
“It’s nothing, I just—” Lifting my head, I turned in my chair and looked up at him. “Honestly, I’m feeling really overwhelmed. And I didn’t evenorderdelivery, but I think maybe someone just asking me iftheycan help for a change…it kind of helps.”
He smiled, and something inside me finally relaxed a little.
Ford
Chapter 12
Since all I could think about was Emzee, and given that there was only just so much real estate work I could do for MREH remotely, I decided to direct all my energy into winning her back. There was obviously no point spending all my days in New York inside my apartment just pining for my wife. I had to take action. And I’d come up with a great idea.
Knowing full well that I couldn’t get past the security guards at her office without getting the cops called on me, I had to come up with something sneaky. Maybe even a little…underhanded. When it came to wooing Emzee, I was willing to do whatever it took.
My plan was deceptively simple. I ordered lunch takeout—from a Filipino place in the East Village that I knew she’d love—and had it sent to the lobby of her building, where I met the delivery guy. After paying him a hundred dollars cash for his hat and the food, I disguised myself just enough to sneak past the security desk. By now, they were used to seeing so many delivery people coming in and out of the building that they barely paid attention anymore.
Once I got off the elevator on Emzee’s floor, the receptionist at thelookingglassoffices was happy to point me in the direction of my wife’s desk. Nobody looked at me twice. In fact, the office was mostly empty, probably because most people were out for lunch.
Excitement rushed through me as I headed past the cubicles, knowing Em would be surprised. The food alone would earn me points; I’d never met anyone who was as much of a dedicated foodie as Emzee. I’d ordered her crispy beef dumplings, crab fried rice with garlic and scallions, and slow roasted pork shoulder in coconut milk. She would love it all.
But when I rounded the corner to her cubicle, the first thing I saw was that shitbird Andrew Apellido, leaning over Emzee and giving her a backrub.
I dropped the food, seeing red. “Get your fucking hands off my wife.”
My hands instantly balled into fists. I didn’t have to look down to know that there was hot Filipino food all over the floor and my shoes, but I couldn’t have cared less. All I cared about was that douchebag and the way he was touching Emzee. I stalked over to her desk and got right up in Andrew’s face.
“Didn’t I teach you a good enough lesson last time?”
Andrew basically just growled in my face, which did nothing to settle me down in any way. As far as I was concerned, he had another beating coming.
But before I could throw a fist, Emzee had gotten in between us, her hands up. “Stop! What the hell are you doing here?”
“Em—” I tried.
“Get out now, or I’m calling security,” she hissed. Turning to Andrew, her voice went calm and placating. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea he was coming here.”
What the fuck was this? Soothing words for Andrew and nothing but threats for her own husband? It pissed me off even more. I wanted to tear the guy’s dick off and shove it in his ass.
“You need to go,” Emzee told me.
I crossed my arms and planted my feet. “I won’t.”
Emzee’s face softened. “Please,” she said gently. “Don’t make a scene.”
