“That isn’t necessary,” I say. I want to leave as quickly as I can, but I get the feeling he’s not going to let me leave until he says I can go.
“I wasn’t asking,” Jace says.
He helps me to my feet, one arm around my waist, the other on my arm as he practically lifts me.
I feel lightheaded, not that I admit it to him. The last time I had bouts of dizziness was after the funeral.
Jace keeps his hold on me, probably making sure I don’t fall. I’d be a huge liability if I got hurt, and while he’s a billionaire, I’m sure he doesn’t want to have to pay me to go away and never speak about it.
He doesn’t stay a billionaire by throwing his money around.
Jace escorts me to his enormous leather chair and makes me sit at his desk.
The material is soft and cool. It’s far more comfortable than I could have imagined. The chair probably costs more than the current value of my car parked outside.
Once he’s confident that I’m not going to fall, he glides the chair closer to the desk and swipes at the papers, putting anything confidential into his desk drawer, locking it after he’s done.
The key on his keyring, slides back into his pocket.
The other gentleman places the food on Jace’s desk.
It’s a bit of overkill, but I reach for the orange juice first. My hands shake, and I fumble with the lid.
Jace takes the bottle from me, opens it, and hands it back.
I smile sheepishly. “Thanks.”
“Boss,” the other gentleman says and nods toward the door.
“I have some things to deal with. Can you sit here, eat your lunch, and not get into trouble?” Jace asks.
I feel like he’s talking to me as if I were a young child. He is putting himself out for me, though, so I nod and take a sip of my orange juice. I don’t want to overstay my welcome. I want to leave, but he’s probably right. If I pass out in the elevator, who is going to help me down to the car?
And I can’t afford an ambulance ride, let alone a massive bill from the hospital, which is what I would get without insurance.
Jace retreats from the office, closing the door.
He’s standing on the opposite side. I have no clue what he’s saying, but he’s quite animated with his colleague.
Jace looks pissed.
Is it because of me?
Is he upset that the gentleman took a few minutes to grab me something to eat? I don’t want to be an imposition.
I unwrap the sandwich. While I want to savor every bite, I can’t. I’m starving.
A turkey sandwich never tasted so delicious in my life. I don’t care that the bread is cold, slightly stale, and dry.
I gulp the orange juice between bites. The taste is rich and thick. Sweet like molasses. Best of all, there isn’t any pulp. However, I wouldn’t be particularly picky.
Already my head feels attached again, and the dizziness vanishes with each passing minute as I devour my free meal.
As soon as I finish my lunch, I’ll head out. Hopefully, he won’t be by the door, and I can sneak out, never to see him again