Lorenzo leans into me. “Everything good with the shipment?”
“No problems,” I answer.
“And Gideon?”
“He’s ready for the transition. Don’t worry, Lorenzo.”
“I’ll kill you if he’s not.” His voice is serious, but I know he’s full of shit. Lorenzo might be cruel, but he would never hurt one of us. He would die for us.
“I have no doubt you would try.” I smirk at him, letting my guard down for a second. Lorenzo is quiet as if contemplating what else bothers him, and then he opens his mouth to speak.
“And what about Bernard? Are we going to war?”
“I need to check a few things, but it’s looking that way.”
I don’t need to ask any of the men at this table if they are marching into battle with me. I already know the answer.
Yes.
16
Skye
I check my watch for the fourteenth time.
Still running late.
No matter how many times I lift my wrist and pray that time has started to go backward, it hasn’t. Instead, every time I check, I’m taunted by the fact another minute has passed, and I’m still looking for my left shoe.
Last night, I came home in a huff, opened a bottle of wine, and threw my shoe . . . somewhere. Two things are clear from this. One: I need to take better care of my things. Two: I probably shouldn’t drink an entire bottle of wine by myself.
My only saving grace this morning is that I’m not that hungover. That’s not to say I don’t have a headache, but I chalk that up to the fact I have been searching for my shoe for the past five minutes.
This is getting annoying.
Two more minutes pass before I’m on hands and knees, pushing my couch forward. Bingo. We have a winner. How in the hell my left heel got lodged behind the back of my couch is beyond me, but I really need to thank whoever advised me to drink Gatorade before bed after drinking.
Lifesaver. Moving forward, no matter how stressed I am from work, I will not be doing what I did last night.
I should join a gym and work out. The thing is, who has time to do that? Not me when I’m being dragged around the world. Speaking of, if I don’t leave now, I will never make it downtown and to Tobias’s office even remotely close to on time.
Bag in hand, keys locking the door, I feel my phone start to vibrate in my bag. I pull the door shut, lock it, and then fish out my phone. A new text from Tobias.
Shit.
I am not looking forward to being reamed out right now. Letting out a sigh, I swipe the screen to read the text.
Tobias: I have an obligation this morning. You don’t have to come in until after lunch.
Hell, yeah! Saved by the obligation.
What obligation is this? And why am I not involved? Is this something about those damned teddy bears?
Seriously, if I find out he’s lying and he is stuffing drugs into a bear, I will lose my shit. I don’t have many hard limits, but this is one.
No stuffed animals. Also, no trafficking of people and no non-self-defense murder, but those seem like a given. Once I find out what I need, I’ll quit and take an extended vacation alone.
Since I no longer must go with Tobias, I use this opportunity to head into my office. Instead of downtown, I head to my midtown office. It feels weird heading here. It’s been forever since I took this trip, even though it’s only been two weeks. The cab ride goes by fast. Lucky for me, there’s little traffic.
Stepping out of the cab, I walk through the lobby. Nodding to the security behind the desk, I head toward the elevator banks. I forgot how much I hate riding the elevators here. It’s funny, but in the past few weeks, since I met Tobias, I have remembered my hatred of enclosed spaces.
For a long time, it hovered in the back of my brain, but ever since I met him, it’s like a weird tickle I can’t seem to scratch. A lingering memory I can’t shut out.
I step out of the elevator and into the lobby of the floor, and as soon as I do, I push down my dress where the skirt rode up and fluff my hair. Then I walk toward my office. Turning the corner, I almost walk right into my boss and Mr. Bernard.
“Just the person we were talking about.”
“Oh. You were talking about me?” I respond, not sure where this is going and not liking that, either.
My brain shuffles through what they could be saying. Maybe it’s good. Maybe Bernard demanded I work on a file for him and wants me to move back to him.
“Yes, actually we were, my dear.”
The chill of his voice makes my back go straight. In this day and age, the fact my boss hasn’t stopped him from looking at me the way he does speaks volumes for the corruption and power this man has and what my boss won’t do to keep it nearby.