Chapter 8 #2
When we finish and part ways, I take the stairs to the rooftop and walk a few laps around the garden, greeting the other regulars as I pass, and return to my office ten minutes before lunch break ends.
Brook already sits at her desk flipping through paperwork. In a Herculean feat of restraint, I walk past her without a glance.
The afternoon swings into hyperdrive. I spend little time at my desk as Mr. Brunswick ushers in the other executive officers one at a time, but I check on my little rabbit as often as I can.
Even though today is her first day, I recognize the stubborn determination written in both her expression and her body language.
She has no plans to quit, no matter how many asinine tasks Ms. Lynn gives her.
When my secretary calls for her as soon as her ass hits the chair for the first time in three hours, I smile at my screen as she closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and blows it out before rising.
Her obvious struggle to contain her annoyance electrifies my senses and fills me with eager anticipation.
Her last explosion landed her in my lap.
I can’t wait to see where her next one leads us.
As Mr. Brunswick brings in the last one-on-one meeting for the day, I turn off the monitor and direct my attention to the task at hand. Although my guest keeps his spiel brief, I breathe a sigh of relief when he thanks me for my time and leaves.
I sit and turn on the security feed, but my little rabbit is nowhere to be found on the executive floor.
The minutes tick by as I respond to the emails Mr. Brunswick tagged as important until half an hour passes with no sign of Brook.
I tap my fingers against my desk a few times before convincing myself to wait a few more minutes.
Most workers leave the building at five o’clock, but we have a department head meeting today at six, so everyone on the executive floor will be here until later in the evening.
Ms. Lynn notifies me of a phone call with a company I hope to collaborate with, so I swivel my chair away from the screen and pour my efforts into navigating the business talk. When I end the call over twenty minutes later, Ms. Simons still has not made an appearance.
I page Mr. Brunswick into my office.
“Where is Ms. Simons?” I ask without preamble.
“Delivering files for Ms. Lynn,” he responds.
“To which department?” I demand.
“I’m not certain,” he says.
I stare in silent demand.
“I will ask Ms. Lynn.” He turns to leave.
I press the intercom with more force than necessary. Ms. Lynn’s high-pitched voice grates through the speaker.
“How may I help you, Mr. Ricco?”
“Where did you send Ms. Simons?”
I grind my teeth as a few seconds tick by.
“She’s delivering files to HR and legal, but she left over an hour ago. She should be back already,” Ms. Lynn says.
I pivot toward the security feed and click to the human resources department.
“I gave her directions and reminded her to return in time to prepare for the meeting at six o’clock,” Ms. Lynn continues as I flip through the HR offices.
When I don’t find Brook, I open the drop down and select the legal team’s floor.
She stands with three male legal assistants semi-circled around her in the hall outside the filing room. My heart leaps into my throat at the secluded location. I lean forward, prop my forearms on my desk, and dig my nails into my palms as I study their body language.
I curse the lack of audio. It seems like a casual discussion, but interest shines in the men’s eyes.
A fourth man—the department head, Mr. Johnson—steps out from the filing room and hands a stack of binders to Brook. My chest clenches at the smile she gives him as she takes them. The angle hides their hands, but his responding smile fills me with suspicion.
Jealousy curls through me. Pinpricks of pain rise from my palms. I sigh and open my fists before my nails break skin.
Even as she says goodbye and strides to the elevator, I struggle to remain in my seat. Fury demands I march down to the legal department, but logic holds me in place.
I don’t have enough evidence to fire Mr. Johnson. His dedication to the company over the past six years is legendary. Only a fool would get rid of such an outstanding employee over a woman.
I sigh, grab the nearest tablet, select an electrolyte drink from the fridge, and sit on the couch, intending to focus on the outline for the evening meeting Mr. Brunswick sent an hour ago, but end up on the security feed.
Ms. Simons places the binders in the back corner of her workspace before launching into the pre-meeting checklist. She completes each task with dogged determination, organizing the files on the side table according to my specifications, turning on the projector, lowering the blinds, and prepping the conference table with individual place settings depending on the person’s preferences.
On her third trip to the kitchen for drinks, Ms. Lynn blocks her path and shoves a stack of papers into her hands.
Brook accepts them, says a few words, then steps around my secretary. Ms. Lynn spins and grabs her shoulder. My little rabbit jerks as though in pain before shoving Ms. Lynn’s hand off and speaking over her shoulder as she strides into the kitchen.
I lift the tablet to my face and frown as I watch Brook pull drinks from the fridge. She favors her right arm until she lifts the drink tray and walks back into the hall. No longer alone, she moves with her normal grace.
I shake my head and swipe to the meeting’s agenda. Brook Simons will not gain my sympathy with her little tricks.
When I read the opening line for the fifth time without comprehending the words, I sigh and toss the tablet onto the coffee table.
This won’t do. I rise, check my reflection in the bathroom, then exit my office into the fray. Surprised by my early appearance, since I usually wait until everyone settles in their seats before I emerge, everyone falls silent until Ms. Simons rushes toward me.
“Do you need something, Mr. Ricco?” she asks.
“Yes, you,” I blurt before I can stop my mouth.
Her eyes widen and she steps back before checking over her shoulder at the small group of people.
“Are the preparations complete?” I ask.
She clears her throat before responding, “Yes, sir.”
God, I’d give my left nut to hear her whimper those words underneath me.
“Good. You’ll stay by my side and take attendance as the department heads arrive. Memorize their names and faces,” I instruct.
“Whatever you say, Mr. Ricco.”
I give her a warning glare as she throws the words at me.
Brook Simons will be the death of me.
I’ll enjoy every disastrous moment.