Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 61758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
“Do you have a problem?” I ask.
“No.” He smiles wider and resumes his typing. “No problem.”
Fuck.
I don’t care that he caught me ogling his sister. What I do care about is that I can no longer watch her unobserved. Once she knows, she’ll no longer be unguarded.
Clenching my jaw, I focus on the long string of code in front of me. From my peripheral vision, I notice Elliot get up. He stretches and, following my example, takes the mug that sits on the Johannesburg Country Club coaster next to his keyboard. His steps are lazy as he walks to the back. Just before he gets to the table with the coffee maker, he rounds one of the geek’s desks, putting himself in Violet’s path. The bucket makes a thump as he collides with it, kicking it over. The water rushes out and runs in every direction.
Violet gives a start.
A soap bubble floats on the water and pops where the puddle pools under the geek’s desk.
She fixes her eyes on her brother, slicing him up with her gaze while her knuckles turn white on the handle of the mop.
“Sorry,” he says with a grin. “I didn’t watch where I was going.”
The lie is mocking.
The office has gone quiet. Everyone is watching.
A muscle ticks in her delicate jaw.
Turning his back on her, Elliot continues casually on his way, walking water all over the clean floor.
I’m on my feet in a blink. I swear I’ll slam his face so hard on the floor I’ll flatten his nose and drown him in one millimeter of water and his own blood. I’m already halfway around my desk when the office door on the right opens and the boss steps out.
Not slowing my stride, I head straight for my target who’s filling his mug with coffee. Instinctively, I assess the room. Experience has taught me to take stock of a situation and evaluate the danger with a single glance. Gus isn’t moving. He’s not going for the gun in his desk drawer or calling his guard. He’s leaning in his doorframe with his hands shoved into his pockets, his expression amused.
My footsteps fall hard on the floor. Elliot catches on. He turns and freezes with his mug halfway to his mouth. I’m five steps away from crushing his windpipe when a soft hand falls on my arm.
The shock of it stops me. Watching is one thing. Touching is another. Her hand is dry and warm. The touch is innocent and light, yet the impact is momentous. Up until a minute ago, I was content to watch her, to quietly enjoy my private obsession. Now? We crossed a line. There’s no going back. She’s taken notice of me. I can no longer enjoy her from the sidelines like she’s my favorite show. The game has fast-forwarded.
I fix my gaze on where her slender fingers are wrapped around my bicep. I like the way it looks—her golden skin against my darker tan and her smallness against my bulk. I like the way it feels, the heat of her palm on my naked skin.
Tearing my gaze from her touch, I look at her face. Her lavender eyes are big for her small face. Long, dark lashes create a pretty frame for their unusual expressiveness. Does she know she carries her heart on her sleeve?
She needs to pay more attention.
She’s an easy prey for a man like me.
Her fingers tighten on my arm as she gives a slight shake of her head. When I lean toward her, she lets go.
Putting us cheek to cheek, I say softly enough for only her to hear, “He deserves to have his face bashed in. Then he can go down on his knees, say sorry like he means it, and clean up this mess.”
She turns her face to catch my gaze. “I can fight my own battles.”
“This is about principle.”
“You’re making it worse.”
I shut my mouth at that and study her, paying closer attention. Standing this near, the fine stress lines around her eyes are visible. Beneath the defiance, anxiety glistens like twinkling stars in those violet-blue depths. I know panic when I see it.
She schools her features and clears her throat. “We have an audience. Please.”
It takes me a moment to back down. I step toward my desk, not because I want to but because she wants me to.
“Back to work, everyone,” Gus says.
Shooting me a look, he straightens and reenters his office. The door slams behind him.
Elliot walks straight past me when he goes back to his desk. I have to ball my hands not to grab him by his collar and throw him facedown on the floor. While I take my place at my station, Violet mops up the water.
The show is over. Everyone returns to their programming.
I clench and unclench my fingers, still fighting the urge to break Elliot’s nose. Gus won’t hold it against me. He approves of a fair fight. In his business, no one gets preferential treatment, not even family, which is why Elliot had to work his way up from filing papers in the vault. I’m guessing it’s for the same reason that Violet has been cleaning the office for the past three months. Gus is starting her at the bottom. Me, I was a runner, carrying messages between Gus and his clients that none of them would risk putting in writing.