Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
Oliver’s chest rises and falls steadily beneath me.
I glance at the clock and see that it’s only five a.m. Misha and Grey are fast asleep as well, and the screen displays a frozen image from the movie we’d been watching.
Carefully, I extricate myself from Oliver’s embrace, trying not to wake him. His gentle breathing and the warmth of his body make it difficult to pull away, but I manage it with minimal disturbance.
Tiptoeing back to my apartment, my mind is already racing with the day ahead.
When I unpacked my bags, I realized the maids forgot to pack my laptop, and in the haste of our departure, I completely forgot about the sensors.
Oh well.
I’ll erase the data remotely as soon as I get a new device and can log into my cloud.
After a quick shower and change of clothes, I send a text to the guys, letting them know I’ve left early to pick up a new laptop. I need it for work and can’t afford to wait, hoping my stolen one will miraculously reappear on my desk.
With my work.
By the time I make it to work, I’m already half an hour late, but Hendricks’ space is conspicuously empty.
Odd.
Even the framed picture of Willow isn’t sitting on it anymore.
Did he go on a vacation too?
I settle in to tackle the mountain of emails that have accumulated during my absence. Each new message feels like a mini-battle, but I’m determined to conquer them all.
It’s so good to be back working. At one point, I wasn’t sure if I ever would.
Just as I’m getting into my stride, the door swings open, and Dr. Cockwomble saunters in. His presence is like a dark cloud descending over my morning. “Well, well,” he drawls, his usual smug expression firmly in place. “What a surprise to see you back. I was getting worried you might not return.”
I bristle at his tone but keep my voice even. “I was just on vacation, Dr. Langley. I simply changed the dates.”
He perches on the edge of my desk, invading my space as he always does. “Is that so?” he says, reaching out to grasp a lock of my hair between his fingers.
Is he fucking serious?
Something in me snaps. I stand abruptly, crossing my arms over my chest. “My vacation was approved. Is there anything we need to discuss with HR about this?”
Langley seems taken aback by my sudden assertiveness. He stands, too, but I find myself looking down at him, a small thrill of satisfaction running through me as I watch him squirm.
“That won’t be necessary,” he says, but I can clearly see how he’s thrown off balance. “But with Hendricks quitting so suddenly, anything seemed possible.”
My ears prick up at that. “Hendricks quit?” I ask, momentarily forgetting my resolve to stand my ground.
Cockwomble huffs, “Haven’t heard yet? And it’s interesting that the AI Department was absent during the same period you were away, yet they returned this morning.
Are you collaborating with them? You know it’s against protocol to work with other departments without the department leader’s permission. ”
I don’t give a fuck about what he thinks I’m doing, but what I’m worried about is Hendricks.
Is that why Willow just quit her fish-sitter job out of the blue?
“Why did Hendricks quit?” I ask.
“Personal reasons. Anyway, he left us with a lot of work, and your absence didn’t help matters. So, I would say there is some overtime in order to pick up the slack.” And with that, he retreats, leaving me alone with my whirling thoughts.
Just before lunch, my phone buzzes with a text from Misha.
Misha
Hey, Bug. Ready for lunch?
I glance at the mountain of emails, still demanding my attention, and sigh.
Probably going to be late. So much to catch up on.
A little while later, the door to my office swings open with a creak, and Misha, Grey, and Oliver pile in, their arms laden with an assortment of snacks—packs of chips and Twizzlers.
They make themselves comfortable, settling into the cramped space as if it were their second home.
Grey commandeers Hendricks’ chair, spinning it once before plopping down, while Oliver perches himself on the edge of my desk, his long legs stretched out before him.
Misha leans in to plant a soft kiss on my cheek, pressing a pack of Twizzlers into my hand with a wink.
“Thank you,” I say, a smile tugging at my lips as warmth blooms in my chest. “What are you lot doing here? Shouldn’t you be working?”
“Yeah, but we missed you.” Misha shrugs, his dark curls bouncing with the movement. “Can’t a guy just want to see his girlfriend?”
Girlfriend.
The flutter in my chest almost makes me nauseous.
“Since Hendricks is gone, maybe one or all of us could come work here,” Grey chimes in, his voice tinged with that familiar dry humor as he tears open a packet of chips with a satisfying pop. The salty aroma fills the air, making my stomach rumble traitorously.
“Why the bloody hell would you want to be in this dark, cramped little office when you have the dream office upstairs?” As I speak, realization dawns on me, and I feel my eyes widen. “Hang on… you knew he quit?”
They exchange glances, a silent conversation passing between them that makes me want to groan in frustration.
Ugh, I hate that.
It’s like they have their own secret language.
“What do you know that I don’t?” I demand, narrowing my eyes at each of them in turn.
Misha’s the one to break first, his shoulders sagging as he admits, “We found out when we were in London. We dug deeper when we heard Morgan had to fish sit because Willow just up and left.”
I feel a pang of guilt. Why hadn’t I realized that there might be a deeper reason behind Willow’s sudden departure?
I had dismissed it as the whim of a preteen, but now…
“Do you know why he quit?”
Grey leans forward, his expression serious, all traces of humor gone from his face. “We think Hendricks was the one who stole your work and your laptop. And he skipped town with it.”
What?
“No way,” I say, shaking my head vehemently, feeling my hair whip against my cheeks. “Hendricks would never do that. He was my… friend. Or at least the closest I ever had to a friend before you lot.”
Oliver rubs his forehead, a gesture I’ve come to recognize as a sign of his discomfort. “We know it’s hard to believe, but everything points to him.”
“Do you have evidence?”
Suspicions aren’t enough.
“Not directly,” Oliver admits. “But he was there when you woke up.”
“So were you,” I point out, immediately regretting my words as I see a flicker of hurt cross Oliver’s face. I quickly add, “And now I know it wasn’t you. So maybe he was just there because he came home and saw me, like he told you.”
“Maybe,” Misha relents, but I can see that all of them have their minds set on this.
Hendricks is the primary suspect, and I’m not sure how to process that.
I look at each of them in turn, taking in their concerned expressions.
Hendricks stealing my work?
It doesn’t make sense yet… could it be true?
The thought makes my stomach churn.
Misha notices my discomfort and hands me a Twizzlers from his own bag, snapping me out of my spiraling thoughts. “Here, Bug. Take a break and eat something. You look like you need it.”
“Thanks,” I say softly, biting into the candy and letting the sweetness flood my mouth.
“We’re still trying to find more evidence as well as Hendricks’ location to visit and ask him about it ourselves,” Misha continues. “But the whole thing proves to be more difficult than we thought. At least now that we’re back, we can concentrate solely on getting you your work back.”
“You don’t have to,” I say, feeling guilt creep up my spine like an icy finger. “You have so much to do with perfecting and launching Jamie and—”
“Princess?” Grey interrupts, reaching out to nudge my chin up with his knuckle, forcing me to meet his intense gaze.
“Shut up.” He leans in and kisses me, letting me taste the salt and vinegar of the chips on his lips.
It’s a brief kiss, but it’s enough to silence my protests and doubts, at least for the moment.
I do as I’m told, munching on my Twizzlers as I lean back in my chair. No matter what happens, I have a support system I can rely on. And that, I think to myself, makes all the damn difference in the world.
“Goddamn.”
I let my head fall back into the cushions and put aside the romance novel I’d spotted on Amelia’s nightstand before our London trip.
Curiosity got the better of me, and I ended up buying a copy for myself.
Now, I push my glasses up and pinch the bridge of my nose, my mind reeling from what I’ve just read.
That scene was… scorching. The guy in the book instructed his girl to sit on his face and proceeded to devour her like a man starved. I reach down and give my rock-hard cock a squeeze through my pajama pants.
I’ve been unbelievably horny lately. Ever since I got a taste of her, it’s all I can think about.
That, and the thought of actually being with her. How it would feel. Whether I’d fuck it up. But honestly, I don’t think even that would be too terrible.
Somehow, she’s managed to quell most of my anxiety about it. I know she’d never make fun of me because she’s utterly perfect. Like she was made just for me.
Fine, made just for us.
I reach for my phone and notice it’s already after two a.m. I really need to sort out this jet lag.
But the fact that she told us she wanted to spend the evening setting up her new laptop at home alone doesn’t help my whirling thoughts.
I hate that I still feel like she’s pushing us away, even though we talked about it. But I get it. I really do.
We messed up big time.
I can be patient a little while longer.
As long as she won’t run again, I’m golden.
Before I finally try to sleep, I decide to send Amelia a quick text in our private chat.
Thinking about you.
Removing my glasses, I place them and my phone on the bedside table. My hands come to rest on my bare chest, and I turn my head, inhaling the lavender scent of my pillow. I’m imagining her lying next to me when my phone chimes.