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“Only two hundred. I’ll sort the rest.”
Like a magnet, I feel the pull to Huxley as he walks in our direction. He looks divine in his light grey suit. His eyes are calculating as he watches us.
“You need to get out of here.Now.”
“I swear this will be the last time you hear from me. I promise.”
His begging stops when Huxley stands next to me. He eyes Elliot with mistrust. “Is there a problem?”
Elliot scoffs. “No.”
The slight twitch in his left eye tells me the response irked him. “Do I need to removethisoff the property?”
I shake my head. “No. He just needed directions. I’ll be up in two minutes.” I try to look at ease, but it’s hard when I feel like I am being choked by testosterone.
“You’re already late,” he snaps before walking away.
“Is that that whose baby you’re having?”
“No.” I look back to see Huxley still watching us from inside. “I’ll transfer you the money. Just get out of here.”
His arms come around me in a tight embrace, but I don’t return the gesture. “Thank you. I swear I’ll pay you back.”
I don’t have high hopes for that, but paying him two hundred pounds is better than the non-stop calls and texts. I enter the office and brace myself for Huxley’s cold mood and temperament today. It’s been a long morning, and I don’t have much energy left.
Our eyes meet through the glass as I walk past Xavier’s office. I haven’t spoken to him since the party on Friday, and I don’t plan to talk to him today. I divert my gaze, jut out my jaw and walk with self-assurance towards my desk.
“Why are you late?” Huxley asks before I can put my bag down.
“I had some stuff to do.”
“You are paid from eight a.m. Not,” he checks his watch, “ten thirty. What was so important?”
Being unbothered to fight with him, I tell him the truth. “I went to see my mum. The nursing home called me to tell me she was lucid today for the first time in weeks. I had breakfast and a conversation with her like normal mother and daughters do.”
I hang my jacket on the back of my seat and log into my computer. He doesn’t say anything else as I check my emails.
“Your afternoon meeting with Intelligence has been cancelled,” I inform him. “Would you like me to request a new date?” When he doesn’t answer me, I look up to see him staring at me. “What?”
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles.
“Whatever. What would you like to do about the meeting?”
He stands up and walks to the front of my desk. “I’m apologising,” he states.
Shrugging, I say, “I don’t care for your apology.”
I hate the way he is looking at me. I hate that I want to cry. I feel overwhelmed andexhausted.I am back on the injections and pre-natal medication, which exacerbate my emotions.
He walks over to the other side of the office and sits on the sofa. “I was an asshole. Let me make it up to you by sitting here in silence. I won’t speak to you, and you can have a nap. Lord knows you look like you need it.”
I need to keep my mind busy, but I didn’t sleep much last night. I lay across the charcoal grey couch opposite him and close my eyes. The warmth coming through the windows helps to relax me, unlike his burning stare.
I sigh and open my eyes. “I can’t sleep if you keep watching me like that.”
He smiles at me. “I can’t help it.”
I turn my head so I am looking at him too. “What do you want to know?”
