3. Eden
CHAPTER THREE
EDEN
Thank God it’s Friday, I tell myself as I drag my exhausted ass into the office.
There are exactly twelve minutes between when I unlock the office door and when Henderson will appear with his bullshit, which means I have twelve minutes to convince myself not to quit.
The first three are spent trying to decide whether my pounding headache is stress or if I’m having a stroke.
The next three are spent making my much-needed cup of coffee.
I figure the caffeine will either help my headache or I’ll know for sure I’m having a stroke.
The final six minutes are spent staring at the blue screen of my login while fighting the urge to type out a letter of resignation.
My hands are still shaking from last night.
Not that you’d know it, because I keep them pressed flat on the desk, refusing to give any satisfaction to Hender-slime.
I slept maybe two hours, interrupted by dreams of being chased through red-lit halls by biker hyenas, but apparently, there’s not enough REM in the world to erase the memory of having my purse stolen and the regret from turning down Bones’s offer.
I hear my asshole boss coming before I see him. The clop of $800 wingtips announces him from the hallway. Then comes the wet rasp of a cough that signals his approach. Finally, the scent of discount cologne wafts in, growing steadily more toxic with each step.
Henderson swings into my office like he’s breaking down a door for a SWAT team. “Eden!” he announces, like I’m not right in front of him, “I hope you had fun last night.” He leans on the glass, way too freaking close for my comfort. “I need my card back.”
I hold my breath and reach into my purse for his credit card. “Morning, Mr. Henderson. Here’s your card.”
He grins, showing all his little capped teeth. “I had a successful night.” Why is he telling me this? I couldn’t care less what happened to him.
I don’t dignify that with an answer. Instead, I click into the shared drive, pretending the act of updating the files takes every neuron I have. The files flicker on screen, lines of numbers and names that will never let me down, unlike every man in a hundred-mile radius.
He lingers in the doorway, waiting for something.
When I refuse to give it to him, he finally shrugs and straightens his lapels.
“I need the quarterly projections on my desk by 3pm, and I have a few little tweaks I want you to make to them.” He drops that freaking bomb on me like it’s no big deal.
Great. I’ll have to skip lunch if I have any hope of getting it done.
“Tweaks?” I ask, already dreading his answer.
“I just need them to be a little…” he pauses, rubbing his chin, “ more optimistic.”
“You want me to create false reports?” I can’t believe this asshole. He’s always been shady, but this is too much.
“No, no, no.” He holds his hands up as a dark red slash covers his face. “Why don’t you just prepare the reports and send them to me, and I’ll tweak them.”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. I hate this job almost as much as I can’t stand this sleazy asshole. But I need the paycheck.
He leaves as suddenly as he arrived, with the faint echo of a smirk left behind. I stare at the door for a full minute after he leaves. I really need to find a new job.
I take a long, shaky breath and open the projections file on my computer. Henderson’s notes are a goddamn mess. If I get through the day without strangling him, it’ll be a miracle.
The morning crawls by at a glacial pace, punctuated only by the unending whine of the copier and the low, nasal drone of Henderson’s “private calls” in the office. By 11:30, I’m nearly halfway through the quarterly projections when the main door pushes open.
My heart nearly pounds out of my chest when Bones walks in wearing a black T-shirt tight enough to strain across his chest and shoulders. For a second, I think I might be hallucinating from my stroke. Then his eyes meet mine and my heart jumps. Nope. He’s definitely real.
“What are you doing here?” I manage to squeak out past the lump in my throat.
Bones stops and leans against my desk. “I wanted to ask you out to lunch.” I barely resist the urge to fan myself. Damn. I have to admit it’s hot as hell when he does it.
Henderson rushes in and steps between us. “Actually, Eden has an important deadline and—”
Bones straightens up and stares my boss down. I almost laugh at the scared shitless look on old Hender-slime’s face. “Eden still gets lunch. She’ll be back by one.”
It isn’t loud, but the tone leaves no room for debate.
Henderson blinks, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. “I—ah—okay.” He backs up, nearly tripping over his own two feet as he vanishes into his office, slamming the door so hard it rattles the windows.
The silence that follows is heavy enough to choke on.
Bones looks back at me. “Ready?”
All I can think about is how many times I’ve fantasized about telling Henderson to go fuck himself. I should refuse but I can’t. Even if it means losing my job.
I reach for my purse, hands steady for once. “Ready.” Screw the quarterly projections. If Hender-slime wants them by 3pm, he can do them himself. This little act of rebellion feels great.
Bones holds the door for me, and I get a little whiff of his yummy scent as I walk past him.
We step into the elevator. Bones leans against the back wall, arms folded, eyes fixed on me. I try not to notice how the space seems to shrink when we’re alone together.
The doors close and I stand against the glass wall, wondering what to say. Thankfully, the ride is short and the elevator dings before the silence stretches too far. We step out and the lobby security guard does a double-take as we walk past.
Outside, the sky is pale blue and cloudless. I wait until we’re halfway down the block before I say, “You know you probably got me fired just now, right?”
He grunts, “If your boss fires you for eating lunch, he’s more of an asshole than I thought.”
“Valid,” I admit.
We wind up at a little diner called Barb’s a few blocks from the office. Bones picks a corner booth, waits for me to slide in, then takes the seat across. He doesn’t ask what I want, just grabs two menus and pushes one across the table.
The waitress is on us in a flash, the kind of woman who’s seen everything and isn’t impressed by any of it. “Can I get you something to drink? And are you ready to order?” she asks.
“I’ll take a Coke and a cheeseburger and fries,” I say. I try to act unfazed, but I can’t stop tracking every movement Bones makes. He’s dialed down a little from full wolf mode, but I can feel the coiled energy under his skin. He’s watching me, too, which is wildly disconcerting.
“I’ll have the same thing.” Bones’s eyes never leave mine.
After the waitress walks away, I sit back and wait, not sure what to say.
“You’re too smart for the job you have. I’m here to poach you,” Bones tells me. Damn. I really didn’t see that coming.
I blink. “Excuse me?”
He leans in, forearms on the table. “My garage is a shitshow. The last office manager quit to chase her ex to Florida, and the guy I’ve got running the desk is only qualified to pump gas and watch TikTok. I need someone who can actually keep shit running. Schedules, ordering, invoicing, payroll.”
I stare at him, caught between disbelief and wild hope. “And you just decided to offer the job to me? Based on what?”
He just barks a laugh. “You have a brain. You don’t take shit from anyone. You went toe-to-toe with me.” He ticks them off on his fingers, then leans back.
I stare at him, wondering if I’m really getting a lucky shot. Or is this too good to be true? “You watched me get my purse stolen and then I cursed you out, and you suddenly think, ‘I should hire her’?”
His eyes go hot and sharp, and I feel it hit me straight between the thighs.
“Yes. I hate the thought of you living in that hell hole, and I want to fucking see you every goddamn day.” He’s so casual about it, but I can see the way his big hands tense on the tabletop, like he’s one second from dragging me over it.
“It’s the perfect solution. I have an apartment over the garage I’ll let you live in as part of your compensation package.
” Then he names a salary that sends shock coursing through me.
I swallow. It’s way more than I make now. Hell, it’s more than I ever expected to make without a degree. With this job, I could move my college plans up an entire year. And I could get the hell away from Hender-slime and his shady business deals.
The waitress returns with our drinks and food, giving me a few minutes to think about this.
I pick up my glass and take a big sip of the soda before asking, “So, what’s the catch? You need me to sell drugs, bury bodies, or…?”
He laughs. “No bodies. No drugs. The garage is a legitimate business. I want you, Eden. In my shop. In my life. By my side.”
That does something weird to me. I straighten, then force myself to relax.
“Why me?” I ask, not hiding the edge in my voice.
He leans closer. “You reached into my goddamn chest and stole my fucking heart.” I honestly think I’d be less shocked if he asked me to sell drugs. “I know this is fast, and I’m willing to let you set the pace of what’s happening between us. But I can’t picture letting you walk out of my life.”
I stare down at my soda. “Just so you know, I’m not going to prostitute myself out for a job.” We need to get a few things straight.
“The job is yours, free and clear, with no strings attached.” He reaches across the table and takes my hand in his. “But I’m planning to convince you to give me a chance.” He doesn’t sound like what I expected from a biker.
“And if I don’t?” I’m not sure why I believe him, but I do.
“Then we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” He stares at me, and I feel my insides melt. “But no matter what, the choice is yours. I won’t force you.”
“I’m not sure why I believe you.” I should be running in the opposite direction, but I can’t force myself to do it.
He snorts. “But?”
“But I do.” We stare at each other in silence for a minute. “I’ll take the job, but we’ll have to wait and see about the rest.”
“I’ll take it. For now.” He slides a folder across the table to me. “Here’s the offer in writing.” I look at the salary, the hours, the details about the apartment. It’s real. Too real. Kinda like what I’m feeling for Bones. All too real and totally surprising.
Before I think too hard about it, my mouth runs off. “When can I start?” I’m already anticipating the look on Hender-slime’s face when I quit.
“Does Monday work for you?” Bones gives me a smile that melts me from the inside out.
“Monday’s perfect.” My voice comes out way too soft.
He pulls his phone out of his pocket. “What’s your number?” he asks.
I tell him my number and watch as he types it in. A few seconds later, my phone buzzes in my pocket. “So you have my number, too,” Bones grunts and stands, dropping a couple of twenties on the table. Then he holds out his hand and helps me to my feet.
We walk back toward my office in silence.
The sun should make everything feel normal, but my blood is still fizzing with adrenaline and…
something I’m not naming. Every time I glance at Bones, he’s watching me.
Like he already knows what I look like naked and is counting down the hours until he gets the real thing.
When we reach my building, he stops in the shadow of the overhang and angles his body to block out the whole damn city.
“You want me to come up with you while you quit?” His tone is dead serious, like he’d follow me into a war zone with zero hesitation.
I almost say yes. But I can do this myself. “Thanks, but I’ve got it covered.”
His lips twitch. “Didn’t doubt it.” I reach for the door. He leans in, so close his stubble nearly scrapes my ear. “I’ll be at your place tomorrow morning, and we’ll start moving your stuff into your new apartment.”
Oh, that won’t work. I have my Saturday afternoon book club meeting, and I have a ton of packing to do. “Can we do it on Sunday instead?” I ask him.
He stares down at me, and I’m pretty sure Bones is about to argue but then he shocks me. “Does 9am Sunday work for you?”
“That’s perfect. See you then,” I tell him and head into the office building.
I ride the elevator up and quickly pack up my desk. It only takes me two minutes to type out my letter of resignation. Then I send out the accurate quarterly projection reports to all the senior management. Let’s see how Hender-slime weasels his way out of that. Oh well, not my problem anymore.
I set the overflowing box on the edge of my desk and take the letter with me as I march down the hallway.
Henderson’s door is ajar, as usual, so he can listen in on hallway gossip.
I don’t knock. I push the door open, and the first thing I see is his stupid face, lips wet from chewing on a pen, tie crooked, hair already losing its daily battle with gravity.
He’s on the phone, and when he sees me, his eyes go wide and then narrow like a snake’s.
“I’ll call you back,” he says, and drops the phone on its cradle. “I was just about to page you. We’ve got an emergency with the Harmon report—”
I place the letter on his desk. “This is my resignation, effective immediately. I’m out.”
There’s a beat of pure silence, then the color rises in his face until he looks like a ham left in the sun.
“Excuse me?” He actually stands, looming over his desk like he’s expecting me to kneel and beg forgiveness.
“I quit, Henderson. The keycard’s in the envelope. I’m not coming back.”
His hands flatten on the desktop. “Sit down, Eden. We need to talk about this like adults.”
I stay standing. “I’m done talking. I’m done being your errand girl. I’m done covering for your mistakes and picking up your slack. And I’m not going to falsify reports for you.”
He stares at me like I’m speaking Mandarin. “You think you can just walk out? You signed a contract, Eden. You walk now, and I’ll blacklist you in every firm from here to the county line. You’ll never work in this city again.”
I feel the old, familiar terror building up in my gut, but I push it down. “You and I both know you don’t have that power.”
His expression flips from rage to panic in a blink. “Let’s not be hasty, Eden.”
“Drop dead, Hender-slime.”
I grab the box off my former desk and walk out the office. Damn. I feel lighter than I’ve felt in a long freaking time.