Emil (Almstead Island: Newcomer’s Club #3)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

ANDERS

“Oh. Em. Gee. Anders, sit down. You’re making me dizzy,” Rory said with all the exasperation.

Even with my back turned to him, I felt his eyes track me across the breakroom.

The dishes were piled in the sink, and it wouldn’t take me but a minute to wash and dry them.

If I took care of them, Artie, the night cleaner, wouldn’t have to stop and do them.

The owners had impossible standards but never allowed him enough time to get them all done, so every little bit helped.

It would be nice if my coworkers washed their own, but they’d fallen out of the habit.

“I can hear you from here, so it’s fine,” I countered. “You were telling me how much you love London and want to go back once a week for the rest of your life.”

“Okay, but when you say it like that, it sounds so unrealistic,” Rory pouted. “A boy and his Daddy need alone time.”

At this comment, I quickly glanced at the breakroom door.

There wasn’t anything wrong with being a boy or a Daddy, but I didn’t want Rory’s business all over the office.

And, selfishly, I wouldn’t have to deal with what John would have to say if he overheard it.

My boyfriend barely tolerated Rory on the best of days, and we hadn’t had a good day in months.

“It does kinda feel like a lot, but if you get Gabe on your side, then go for it.”

From the sink, Rory looked like he was about to float out of his chair with cartoon hearts sparkling with glitter like he always did at any mention of Gabe. “Hmm, my Daddy does like to see me happy.”

“Uh, your Daddy likes to see you spoiled rotten.”

That perked Rory up again, and he scooted back up in his seat. Rory, bless him, used to have terrible taste in men, but Gabe fixed that in one fell swoop.

“And isn’t that what a good Daddy does?” Rory asked with an impish grin.

With the dishes done, I moved back to the table and forced myself to sit.

I felt completely unsettled and off-kilter, but I couldn’t explain why, so I kept quiet.

If I told Rory, he’d call Gabe and demand that Gabe order me to talk to him.

And Gabe would ignore Rory, reminding him that I wasn’t his boy.

He tended to forget that Gabe was a one-man Daddy, and I wasn’t the one.

“You should get yourself a Daddy and find out,” Rory suggested before he finished off the last bit of his sandwich by shoving it all in his mouth. “Then you’d have someone to spoil you too,” he added around the mouthful.

“Pardon me, guys. I just needed some water.” A whiff of expensive cologne told me who’d walked in without needing to look. “Did we get a new hire?”

Emil Magnuson. My boss. No, my boss’s boss’s boss.

Of all the bad times to decide he needed to hydrate, why did it have to be when Rory was talking nonsense about me being a boy and my own need for spoiling?

His dark hair was always perfectly styled, his cufflinks perpetually shiny, and his suit always pressed.

I’d noticed his shoes could’ve been shined better, but there was no way in hell I’d bring it up to him.

“Uh, no, sir. I’m on my lunch break, and this is my friend.

He, uh, brought me lunch. We were permitted to do it before, but I shouldn’t have assumed you wouldn’t have different rules.

I’m sorry.” I finished up my ramble and then remembered to add, “He’s on his way out.

” Rory looked at his bag of unfinished chips and then back at me. “Right, Rory?”

“Yeah, I guess I am,” he said with barely disguised annoyance. I gave him a quelling look, but he just narrowed his eyes back at me.

My new boss, three levels removed, looked between Rory and me with eyes that gave away nothing.

They were almost expressionless and fully indecipherable.

Emil stood at the door watching, and I squirmed under his gaze.

It was deeply unsettling, like a prickling that crawled up my spine, to have him standing while I sat.

It felt wrong on more levels than I wanted to examine on a random Tuesday.

“Gentlemen, I apologize for interrupting. Please carry on with your lunch. It’s not like you need permission from your boss to have a lunch guest.”

As far as I knew, Magnuson didn’t even know my name, but ever since he took over the company, everyone at work had been buzzing about the changes he’d bring.

He spent too much time in the senior executive offices for things to stay the same.

He was always polite to everyone, whether they were a vice president or the person who changed the air filters.

“Mr. Magnuson, we were just finishing up in here. Sorry for the inconvenience.” The last thing I needed was to get on the wrong side of the new owner.

Work was already rough with John breathing down my neck about keeping our books in order.

I didn’t need to add that he was annoyed I’d brought someone into the office without proper permission.

“It’s fine.” The firmness of his voice left no room for argument. “Enjoy your lunch, gentlemen.” He stepped out of the break room. Rory looked at me like I’d lost my mind.

“It kills me that you apologize for existing or for having lunch. You’re allowed to eat, and I don’t care what your asshole boyfriend thinks about it.

” I started to protest, but Rory cut me off.

“I know good and well that he didn’t want us meeting for lunch today because he thinks that when we do, you start getting…

I don’t even know what to call it, but whatever it is, it sets him off.

” Rory dropped into his chair, upset with me, with John, with everything—maybe not the whole world, but definitely John and me.

“I wish you could see him the way I do. He helps me. He makes sure I’m taken care of. He lets me feel useful. He even checks my cooking so I can ‘improve.’ He wants me to be the best version of myself.” Rory’s skepticism was evident, but he didn’t argue the point with me.

Rory told me once that it felt like men used me up and left a husk behind. I hated that I couldn’t disagree with him. A part of me still needed to feel useful, no matter the cost. I craved it as much as I craved water or air, and maybe more than I craved love.

My reheated pasta sat there untouched, cooling beside me.

The smell of the noodles, mingling with the stale, leftover coffee from this morning, made me nauseated.

When I packed lunch this morning, I’d been looking forward to one more chance to eat the homemade sauce and meatballs.

John had said the meat was salty and the sauce was bland, but I’d worked on the recipe until it was perfect.

After Mr. Magnuson came into the breakroom, any chance I had of choking it down went out the door.

He made me too nervous to force myself to push past the nausea.

Instead, I focused on the condiment tray in the center of the table.

They were all jumbled together, and the lack of order bothered me, as did the idea that someone would miss out on what they needed when I could have fixed it for them.

“Aren’t you going to eat anything?” Rory’s voice was concerned and worried.

“I had a late snack, so I’m not that hungry.”

A little white lie never hurt anyone.

“I’m sorry to bother you with this, Anders.

I just can’t seem to figure out why these numbers aren’t balancing.

I’ve gone over every invoice. I’ve gone over the receipts.

I’ve gone over miscellaneous expenses. Obviously, the money needs to be there.

I just can’t figure out where the error is.

” Lacey’s aggravation was apparent. I knew she had been working on this file for a few days now, and it still wasn’t untangled.

“You’re right though. Money doesn’t disappear, so it’s got to be in there somewhere. We just need to figure out where the mistake is. Is this the file that I was working on last week?”

“Yeah, but the documentation in there looks like it’s been modified. Did you go back in and make some changes?”

“No. I closed it out, and that was the end of it. It was modified?” I asked.

“Last Friday.” Lacey pointed to a line on the spreadsheet that clearly showed my login making alterations to the totals. I didn’t remember being in there, but I’d been so worn down lately that I supposed I might have been misremembering it.

This whole conversation was making my already pounding headache worse. After Rory left, I still hadn’t been able to eat anything. My stomach was in absolute knots. This mess with the files—which wasn’t the first I had found—wasn’t helping my stomach or head.

“Can you send this to me in a read-only format so I won’t accidentally change something again?”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“Great, thanks. I know you need it to finish the report, so I’ll work on it before I go home tonight.” I stood up from her desk, and immediately, the room began to spin. Out of instinct, I gripped the edge of her desk, trying to keep the world and myself upright.

“Oh my gosh, are you all right?” The concern in Lacey’s voice was kind, but John wouldn’t appreciate it if I made a fool of myself by fainting in the middle of the workday.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just stood up too fast. No biggie.”

After leaving Lacey’s desk, I made my way back over to mine. It was shoved in the back corner, surrounded by filing cabinets and boxes, but it was quiet and secluded, which I appreciated. With a groan, I collapsed into my chair and put my head down on my desk.

“Anders, what’s wrong?” The delicious-smelling cologne was back, and I was well and truly busted.

I swallowed my sigh and straightened myself up from the desk. No lies sprang into my mind fast enough to respond, and that left me, unfortunately, with the truth. Beyond that, lying to Emil Magnuson felt impossible because I knew he’d clock it immediately.

“I’ve just been feeling a little under the weather, that’s all. I’ll grab some pain medicine and water. It’ll be fine.”

“Do you need to go home?”