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What’s more, unless I can keep him out of her path, he’ll be seeing her on Monday… though based on everything I’ve seen of her so far, she has absolutely no fucking clue.
I tip my head towards our staff, my gaze caught by the glint of that silver goddamn ring of his in the process—the same one he’s always wanted me to wear… to showloyalty.
“Go back to our people,” I say. “You’ve dragged them here on a Saturday morning once again. I’m sure you had good reason for that.”
My words arouse his ire, causing him to bare his teeth at me.
“You have responsibilities. Do I need to remind you of that?”
“No. I think I’ve been informed of that enough.”
The parting words which he gnarls at me before returning to the same room in which I’ll be sitting opposite him in fifteen minutes would cause me pain… if I hadn’t heard them a hundred times before.
It all depends on his moods.
There are good days and bad, depending on whether I’ve pleased him or not, and pleasing him consists of one thing: reverential submission, something I can no longer offer.
“You’re a fucking embarrassment.”
As he walks away, I mutter words under my breath.
“Thank you, Father.”
4
Indigo
My eyes dart around the lobby as I push the door of the apartment building open, scanning the area for any signs of the man whose shirt is still soaking in bleach.
I pulled it out of its hydrogen peroxide bath earlier today, hoping that the stains would have miraculously disappeared, but I’m fairly sure that all it did is turn the elegantly creamy-white shirt a stark neon while turning the beetroot stains a delectable shade residing somewhere between highly concentrated urine and jaundiced liver.
“All clear!” I eke out in whispered panic, making Fran and my friend Yoshi, who’s coming up for a coffee to sober himself up before going out to see a hot friend of his, burst into fits of drunken merriment, all three of us having consumed way too much saké with our sushi at dinner.
It’s just before 8 p.m. so I have no idea why I think Greyson Everitt would be roaming around the lobby but knowing my luck, I’ll end up body-slamming him by accident or something.
I push open the sturdy steel and glass door, grabbing Yoshi’s arm and tugging him as we all scuttle along the shiny floor of the lobby, throwing a cursory hello at the receptionist who greets us before stopping for a second to check out the spot where I gave Greyson the beet shower, thanking the heavens that the stain looks like it’s gone.
Once inside the elevator, I jab at the PH button, breathing a sigh of relief when the doors close.
“Aw, dammit,” groans Yoshi. “I wanted to see the stud.”
Fran smirks. “You wouldn’t be able to speak for days.”
“Stop it,” I chide as the doors open on the top floor.
“Seriously?” slurs Yoshi. “That hot?”
“Shh. Keep it down,” I snap as we approach the corner. I turn around to throw them my best drunkenBehavelook. “Let’s try and be civilized for once. I have a neighbor who isseriouslytightly wound.”
As I round the corner, I stop dead in my tracks… about six feet in front of the man I was just roasting.
Of course…
I glance up at the ceiling for a second, thanking God for the exquisite timing as Greyson Everitt’s fierce gray eyes bore into me, a hint of intrigue softening his dusky pink lips despite the moody air to his demeanor, no doubt at my words.
Behind me, I hear Fran snorting and I close my eyes tightly for a second before opening them.
“Um… Sorry about that,” I manage, stepping around the man who doesn’t say a word but merely watches me make another highly inelegant exit, only this time at least I haven’t inflicted any permanent vegetable stains on his person.
