Chapter 4
Four
Jace
The universe is fucking with me.
Or maybe…it’s on my side.
Like really on my side.
Because I seem to know something that Marie doesn’t.
There are only two apartments on this floor—the top floor. One is mine, a penthouse suite that takes up three-quarters of the level. The other…I fight a smile as we get off the elevator, as I trail her down the hall to the door closest to us.
And she glares at me over her shoulder the whole way.
“I don’t need you to walk me to my door,” she grinds out.
“I know,” I say, still lazily trailing her. “But it turns out that my door”—I jerk my chin beyond her—“is after yours.”
She follows my stare.
Then turns back to glare at me.
“Well then”—a little dismissive wave of her hand—“feel free to get on with it.”
I smirk, start to move by her. Then stop. “You know?—”
She sighs, hand falling away from the electronic keypad above the door. “No,” she mutters. “I don’t know. But you’re sure as shit going to tell me.”
My smirk widens, and I lift a shoulder and drop it in an impassive shrug. Then I go on like she hasn’t spoken the acerbic words. I don’t think telling her that her glaring up at me like a pissed-off kitten is going to go over well. “You know,” I say again, “I think it’s kind of interesting that there are only two condos on this level. Mine and yours,” I add indolently when her eyes narrow further. “And I’ve never so much as bumped into you before.”
She scowls, turns back to the door.
When I don’t immediately start walking, she says to the wooden panel, “Move along, Mr. Creepy.”
I snort.
Take a step back. Stop. Can’t resist asking, “Want to tell me why that is?”
“Why what is?”
“Why I’ve never run into you before, cookie.”
She spins to face me, crossing her arms over her chest. “What’s with that?”
“With what?”
She lifts an eyebrow. “ Cookie? ”
I just grin. “Seems we both have questions.” I turn away, take a step.
“I just moved in a week ago.”
“Ah,” I try to keep the note of triumph out of my voice…and I have the feeling I don’t succeed—or at least not completely. “That explains it.”
“Explains what?”
“I was on a work trip last week.”
“Oh.”
A shrug. “That’s why I wasn’t here when you moved in.”
“You keep track of everyone’s comings and goings?”
I shrug again. “I like to know my neighbors.” I wink, amusement curling through me when I practically see the smoke streaming out of her ears. “Or rather, neighbor. ”
Her lips part as she leans closer, and I brace myself for her retort.
This will be good.
I know it will be.
Hell, even my dick twitching in my pants knows as much.
I shift a little closer, back in range of that intoxicating perfume of hers. Cherry blossoms? Jasmine? Lavender?
“You know, neighbor ,” she begins, “I think?—”
My cell rings.
Loud and clear and ruining the moment.
I wish I could say that this is the first time my phone ringing has ruined a moment for me.
Alas, that wouldn’t be true.
“You’d better get that,” Marie finishes, turning back to the door, punching at the keypad.
I see the code—something she should be more careful about—and file the bit of information away. Not saying I’m going to use the knowledge to my advantage…
But I’m not not going to use it to my advantage either.
“Night, cookie.”
I don’t get the chance to see her green eyes flare with annoyance because my cell rings again and at the same time, I hear the whir of her door’s lock disengaging.
Then the slam of her door closing behind her.
Stifling a sigh, I dig out my phone, leave the confusing, perplexing, interesting woman to her evening and answer the call.
It’s not a good one.
And I’ve had too many not good ones of late.
At first small things—issues with a production facility we’re building, then a competitor swooping in and undercutting us on a bid, emails that weren’t replied to and, apparently, when we reached out, had never been received.
Shit that isn’t on my radar, that my team handles for me.
But eventually, so many missteps that it was brought to my attention.
Someone is trying to sabotage us.
Not entirely something that’s out of the realm of possibilities in a world of corporate espionage and cutthroats.
But still annoying as fuck.
And now, I’m on the receiving end of calls at eight P.M. on a Saturday night.
Fun times being the big boss.
“Hey,” I say after I swipe my finger across the screen and lift my phone to my ear. “What’s happening?”
“The Duarte contract.”
I frown. That’s one of our biggest government contracts. “What’s going on with it?”
Tom, my assistant, sighs. “Apparently, we didn’t comply with the necessary environmental reports.”
That’s bullshit.
Something I also say aloud.
“Bullshit.”
“Yes,” Tom agrees as I walk around the corner, jab at the buttons on the keypad above the handle on my door. “But I think we’re going to have to fly to DC to resolve this in person.”
I don’t want to hear that.
Not after discovering that the other apartment on my floor houses a spicy brunette with a gorgeous face and an even more gorgeous ass?—
“Boss?”
I blink, realize my door is open…and that my assistant is waiting for my answer.
“I’ll pack a bag,” I mutter. “And meet you at the airport in an hour.”