Chapter 17 Bitsy #2
Bitsy hesitated, lingering near the indoor planters.
She stood there for a long moment, her anxiety clicking into overdrive.
Was she supposed to wait here until nine o'clock sharp?
Should she try to call Wyatt? Or was she expected to simply navigate her own way up to the executive floor?
She hadn't been issued a security badge yet, nor had anyone scanned her biometrics into the building's central access grid.
You belong here, she told herself firmly, trying to quiet the frantic voice in her head. He hired you. Just go up.
Deciding that initiative was better than looking lost in the lobby, she bypassed the empty reception desk, turning down the wide, carpeted corridor that led toward the private elevator banks.
It was the exact same path Wyatt had guided her down during her initial visit, and her analytical memory mapped the turns perfectly.
She stepped up to the brushed-chrome elevator doors, her confidence stumbling slightly as her eyes hit the small, dark glass sensor pad mounted on the wall. There were no physical buttons. It was a secure system.
She reached into her bag, her fingers brushing the edge of her phone as she debated texting Wyatt, when a door at the end of the adjacent hallway clicked open.
"Well, look who it is! Good morning, darling!"
Bitsy turned to see a man walking toward her down the corridor, his posture immaculate and his energy immediately filling the quiet hallway with a warm, vibrant presence. He was carrying a sleek digital tablet, looking effortlessly put-together and comfortable in the space.
"Good morning," Bitsy said, her shoulders dropping a fraction in relief at the friendly greeting.
The man stopped beside her, his eyes sparkling with absolute warmth as he looked her up and down with an appreciative, welcoming smile. "You must be Bitsy. I'm Vic, the office coordinator, resident sanity saver, and the one who actually keeps all these chaotic men organized around here."
"It's very nice to meet you, Vic," she said, offering a small, polite smile. "I was a little unsure if I should wait downstairs or head up."
"Oh, absolutely head up! You're family now, honey," Vic said, waving a hand dismissively.
He stepped closer to the elevator panel, his expression shifting into something deeply caring.
"You look absolutely lovely, by the way.
Those slacks are a perfect cut on you. But you are absolutely freezing, aren't you?
Your poor little nose is entirely pink."
"I'm okay," she lied softly, shifting the weight of her bag. "Just a quick walk from the lot."
"Well, we will get some hot cocoa or coffee into you the second you get upstairs," Vic said, not missing a beat.
He reached out, pressing his palm flat against the biometric scanner on the wall.
The glass pad glowed green with a soft, electronic chime, and the heavy elevator doors slid open smoothly.
Vic ushered her inside with a gentle, encouraging motion of his hand. He stepped into the car just long enough to press the secure button for the top executive floor, then stepped back out onto the carpeted corridor.
"Have a wonderful first morning, Bitsy. Don't let Wyatt bully you too much with the data structures today. I'll be up later with the lunch delivery!"
"Thank you, Vic," she said as the chrome doors began to slide shut.
As the elevator began its smooth, silent ascent, the reality of the situation hit her completely.
The enclosed space felt smaller, the quiet hum of the machinery doing nothing to distract her from the frantic spiral of her own thoughts.
Her palms felt slick where she gripped the straps of her bag.
She was walking into a room full of powerful, intimidating men who operated at the highest tier of the industry.
She felt like a fraud—an impostor who had spent her morning getting dressed in a public grocery store bathroom, now pretending to belong in a multi-million-dollar company.
Control the variables, she instructed herself, her analytical mind fighting to lock down her physical symptoms. It’s just data. It’s just code.
The elevator slowed, a gentle chime echoing through the car before the doors slid open.
The executive suite was exactly as she remembered it—vast, quiet, and smelling strongly of expensive, dark-roast coffee and old paper. The plush rugs absorbed the sound of her flats as she stepped out into the open reception area.
She took one deep, centering breath, tightening her grip on Lennon's coat, and began the walk down the main corridor toward Wyatt's office.
As she rounded the corner near the central conference room, a massive figure suddenly materialized from a side office, stepping directly into her path.
Bitsy gasped, her foot catching on the edge of the carpet runner as she collided straight into a broad, solid chest. Her bag slipped from her shoulder, and she braced herself for the impact of the floor, but before she could fall, two massive, incredibly strong hands clamped firmly around her upper arms, anchoring her instantly.
"Whoa there! I've got you," a deep, booming voice rumbled above her.
Bitsy’s eyes snapped open, her heart hammering against her ribs as she looked up.
The man holding her was enormous—broad-shadowed, with a thick, neatly trimmed beard and eyes that carried an immediate, gentle warmth.
He didn't look angry at all; in fact, he looked incredibly concerned as he slowly eased her back onto her feet, ensuring she had her balance before he even thought about letting go.
"I am so sorry!" Bitsy blurted out, her face instantly burning with a fierce, hot flush of embarrassment. She hadn't even clocked in yet and she was already throwing herself at the executives. "I wasn't looking where I was going, I am so incredibly sorry—"
"Hey, look at me. No harm done at all," the man interrupted, his voice dropping into a low, incredibly soothing register that felt like a heavy velvet blanket. He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You must be Bitsy. We've been expecting you."
She swallowed hard, nodding quickly as she retrieved her laptop bag from the floor. "Yes. I'm Bitsy."
"I'm Hudson," he said, extending a hand that completely swallowed hers when she took it.
His grip was remarkably gentle despite his sheer size.
"We’ve all been looking forward to meeting you.
Don't worry about the bump, sweetheart. I'm built like a brick wall anyway; you couldn't knock me over if you tried. "
Before she could offer another apology, a heavy door down the hall swung open. Wyatt stepped out into the corridor, his imposing, massive frame immediately dominating the space. A striking man and a small, elegant blonde followed right behind him, the woman leaning comfortably into the man's side.
Wyatt’s dark eyes locked onto the scene instantly, his brow furrowing as he took in Bitsy’s flushed face and Hudson’s protective stance.
"What happened?" Wyatt asked, his baritone voice rolling down the hallway with that familiar, heavy weight.
"Just a minor navigation error at the intersection," Hudson said with a light chuckle, stepping back to give Bitsy some breathing room. "Bitsy was just testing my structural integrity. She passes."
The man who had walked out with Wyatt let out a low, knowing sound, his sharp eyes assessing Bitsy with a quiet, analytical focus that made her feel entirely transparent. But it was the blonde who broke the tension, slipping around the men with a bright, welcoming smile.
"Bitsy! Good morning!" She said, her voice sweet and entirely genuine. As she stepped closer, Bitsy realized with a small jolt of surprise that the woman was actually quite a bit taller than her, her slender frame elegant but carrying an undeniable confidence.
Wyatt stepped into the space, his presence immediately anchoring Bitsy’s frantic energy. "Bitsy, this is Silas, and this is Lennon."
A wave of recognition hit her—so these were the names she'd heard, the people connected to the beautiful wool coat she was currently carrying.
"Good morning," Bitsy said, forcing her professional facade back into place.
She straightened her shoulders, looking up at the three massive men surrounding her.
They were all dressed in high-end, perfectly tailored charcoal and black suits, looking like architects of industry.
Standing there in her drugstore makeup and her cheap slacks, she had never felt more like an outsider.
She turned to Lennon, lifting the neatly folded wool overcoat with both hands, holding it out like an offering. "I wanted to return this to you first thing. Thank you so much for letting me borrow it. I washed it; it's perfectly clean."
Lennon’s smile widened, and she reached out, taking the heavy coat from Bitsy's hands.
"Oh, thank you, sweetie! But you really didn't have to rush to wash it.
You are welcome to borrow it anytime you need it.
Seriously." Lennon paused, her eyes drifting down to Bitsy's structured blazer and then to her bare throat.
A small, subtle flicker of concern crossed Lennon's face, but she kept her tone perfectly sweet.
"I'm just so glad you made it in safely today. The roads are terrible."
"They weren't too bad," Bitsy replied politely, her voice tight as she tried to ignore the way Wyatt's eyes were currently drilling holes into the side of her face.
"We need to get to work," Wyatt said smoothly, his tone leaving no room for further socializing. He extended a large hand, indicating the corridor leading back to their shared office. "We’ll see you guys for lunch."
"See you then. Have a good morning, Bitsy," Silas said, his deep voice level and polite.
Bitsy nodded to them, then turned and followed Wyatt down the long hallway. The silence between them was heavy, broken only by the rhythmic click of her flats against the hardwood border of the carpet runner.