Page 51 of Mr. Perfect

“Sure. And remember, ignore the fuck out of her. It gets them every time.”

“Right.”

“Later, man.”

I tab end and then look down at the phone. Should I call and ask her what the hell? Clearly she was not with Andrew this weekend. On the other hand, she never actually said she was going with him. She evaded the questions like a pro.

No. I’m not calling her. She blew me off. One hundred percent blew me off.

Was I a dick? Did I insult her with the sex? It was fun, right?

Maybe that’s all it was. Just a quickie before she quits. Just something safe. Something she can walk away from in a week and never look back.

Maybe Nol is right. Maybe she’s not interested. Maybe I need to ignore her. Maybe I need to cut her loose before she cuts me.

Maybe I need to cut this whole goddamned company loose before I get lost in some life-sucking corporate existence like the rest of my friends.

I open the message stream she’s been sending to Heath and shake my head. She seemed so nice. So damn cute. A perfect change from the women I occasionally date.

But I guess it’s fake. I guess she’s nothing but a fake.

Chapter Twenty - Ellie

I have never so looked forward to a Monday morning like I did this one. All weekend I thought about Mac. What’s he doing? Did he take someone else out after I said no? Take them to dinner? Fuck them afterward?

Probably. And why not? He offered the good times to me and I said no. I have no excuse to be mad if he did.

I won’t be mad. I won’t.

I look at myself in the rear-view mirror as I check my lipstick and make a face.

I will be mad. There’s no way I won’t be mad. I don’t care how stupid it is, he’s gotten under my skin. I literally know nothing about this guy except he sure can fuck—and his dick feels nice. Hell, his tongue feels nice too. And his touch.

Focus, Ellie.

I know nothing about him but that. And I’ve worked here for seven years and he never once came to the company. Why?

It’s not like I just missed him or he came in secretly. Not like he’s some kind of hands-off, behind-the-scenes kind of executive.

No. I’ve been out on that tarmac every day of those seven years and he’s never gotten off a jet. I’ve never even seen that jet. What kind of money do the Stonewalls really have? Scary amounts, that much is sure.

I guess he could’ve driven. But Mr. Stonewall Senior never drives. It’s nothing but jets for that family. Heath lived locally, so he only took the jet when he had to do business out of town.

And why isn’t Mac on the internet when I search? Stonewall Senior is famous. Hell, there’s a ton of stuff about Heath online as well. They have a sister, Camille, and she’s not as visible as Heath, but there’s lots of society photos of her in ball gowns hanging on the arms of various bachelors at charity events.

There’s just something off about a man from a famous family not having an online presence. Something strange. Like he’s hiding.

What is he hiding from?

That’s my mission this week, I decide as I grab my purse, get out of the car, and close the door. I’m going to figure out what’s up with his past.

It feels weird to walk into the Atrium this morning. Last week I parked out by the airport and went into my old office to see Ming in the mornings. But today I parked in the main parking lot.

It’s not because of Mac, I tell myself. It’s not.

But as soon as I walk through the door and into the seven-story building, I find myself looking up. All the way up to the top floor.

I don’t see the multi-colored picnic tables filled with people leaning over laptops and chatting over coffee with co-workers. Or the six-story waterfall surrounded by palm trees. Or the monstrous slides twisting their way down the center of the lobby.