Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“In the copy room?”
“I stopped by on my way back to grab a . . . notebook,” I reply, glancing around the room. “Looks like we’re out.”
“I’ve got an extra in my office. Here, why don’t we have a quick chat while we’re at it? I want to hear all about your meeting with BamCo.”
I groan. “But I already filled you in.”
“Not in person.”
“I’m also working on a big order from Shellington. They’ve got some AIG paper they need to sell—”
“This will just take a moment.” His eyes bore into mine, earnestness written all over his face. He lowers his voice. “Please, Nora. I’ve missed you. The desk hasn’t been the same since you’ve been in California.” He laughs. “I feel like I have no one to talk to.”
Once upon a time, I would’ve taken the bait. The compliment, the touch of longing in his expression—I’d be melting, secretly hoping it meant Aiden still held a torch for me. That it was his job as my manager that kept us apart, not the fact that he didn’t want me.
Now I’m over it. I just want to get back to my desk so I can do my job and make sure I’m finished by five thirty so Theo and I have plenty of time to hang out, eat, and orgasm multiple times.
Pleasing Aiden—always being available to him, always saying yes to whatever he needed in or out of the office—seems a lot less important than it did a week, a month, a year ago.
“I can fill you in while we walk back to the desk.” I nod in that direction. “Raincheck on the meeting? I have so much going on playing catch up with clients after being out last week.”
Aiden’s brows snap together. He blinks, frowning.
He clearly was not expecting that.
“Of course,” he clips and clasps his hands behind his back. “Clients come first.”
“Glad you agree. So, BamCo. Like I told you on the phone . . .”
Just as I’d hoped, Aiden’s lost patience with the repeat story by the time we get back to the desk. Theo catches us approaching, and I don’t miss the pair of indents that appear above the bridge of his nose. His eyes find mine—they’re constantly seeking me out today—and then they flick to Aiden.
They go dark.
Aiden clearly picks up on it too, because he immediately peels off, offering me a brief “well done” before ducking into his office. The door shuts behind him.
I catch Theo’s gaze again and smile. Done.
Theo doesn’t smile, but the darkness in his eyes disappears.
Thank fuck.
@WSBathroom 2/26
No news on the murder/boning outcome. We will update you as the situation evolves, but we’re hearing a shakeup at A&T is due to happen any day now.
* * *
@WSBathroom 2/26
Apparently the shakeup involves a high-level managing director. We can only assume he’s the Casanova who was canoodling with a client’s wife.
* * *
@WSBathroom 2/26
Apparently this is not the first time he’s been caught cozying up with the wrong woman: he’s known to have had “secret” relationships with several employees as well . . . #WhatADick #FireHisAssNow
Chapter Twenty-Six
Theo
4:04 p.m.
Theo: Come home with me
Nora: Again?
Theo: I meant what I said. I don’t want you sleeping in any bed but mine. I got a case of that Viognier we drank out in SB delivered today. I’ll open a bottle and make dinner?
Nora: You’re good at this.
Theo: Yes
Nora: Offer to sit on your beard still stands?
Theo: Always. I’ll try getting out of here right at 5 so I can hit the grocery store on my way home. I’ll be home by 5:30, latest. Front door will be open
Nora: Great. I’ll leave here around 5:30 and meet you there. What can I bring?
Theo: Dessert. Which as you know is your body
Nora: I’ll bring ice cream too.
Theo: I won’t say no to that
Nora: Your sweet tooth is cute.
Theo: It won’t be when I’m licking that ice cream off your tits
Nora: [flame emoji]
Theo: Don’t bring pajamas, they’re not allowed in my bed
Nora: Wouldn’t dream of it.
The last thing I feel like doing is going to our Monday afternoon trader’s meeting. My mind is already on the pork chops I want to make for Nora tonight. It’s my mom’s recipe, nothing crazy—shake and bake, served with boxed rice and broccoli—but I’m excited to make it for Nora.
Not long ago, I would’ve assumed she’d turn up her nose at a meal like that. Now I know how much she appreciates being fed. Taken care of. I could stick a frozen pizza in the oven, George style, and I know she’d love it.
It’s nice, not worrying about having to impress her with fancy shit. Don’t get me wrong, I still want to treat her to nice things. I ordered good—expensive—wine for us to drink. I placed an order through one of my brokers for prime steaks to be delivered tomorrow from a famous New York butcher. Figure I could grill out for us this weekend. Whatever I make, it’s the thought that counts for Nora, and that means a lot to me.