Chapter 2
“Of course.” Neema gave him a smile that never reached her eyes. Her fingers went to caress her ring like she usually did when she was thoughtful, too late realizing she no longer had it because Jerome had taken it to get cleaned after she got it covered in dough weeks ago.
Not that Jerome noticed. He was too busy checking his phone. “Good. Perfect. Look, I have to run.” Just then, another man stepped up to the counter. Jerome glared at the man before he schooled his features and smiled. “Oh, great. James. Could you please grab the bill for me? I’m running late. I will come by your desk and pay you back later.” Jerome was gone before the man, James, could respond.
With a dejected look and heavy sigh, James removed his wallet. “How much is it?” he asked.
But Neema shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. What can I get you?” She didn’t look up to watch Jerome’s retreating back. There was no point. He wouldn’t look over his shoulder at her for a last-minute smile or air kiss. Made her wonder if her fiancé even remembered she existed when she wasn’t standing directly in front of him.
“I wouldn’t be upset with Jerome if I were you,” Hector said once James left and they were alone again. “It’s not his fault. It’s all the devil’s doing. He is a slave driver.”
Neema huffed out a breath. She shook her head at her co-worker. “You just don’t like him. Besides, Mr. Fay works just as hard. He is always the last person to leave the office. I guess he expects the same dedication from his employees.”
Hector’s eyebrows arched up. “Careful there. It sounds like you admire the man.”
Neema scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m engaged.”
“So? Did your eyes stop working when Jerome put a ring on your finger?”
Instinctively, Neema’s eyes dropped to her empty finger. She missed her ring, a simple band with a small diamond embedded in a swirl of gold made to look like a rose flower.
Something tagged at her chest, but she smiled. “No. My eyes didn’t stop working, but I only look at one man now.”
It was the truth. At least she wished it was because right then, an image popped into her mind of an Adonis with a clean-shaven jaw, dark brown hair slicked back from his face, and steel-blue piercing eyes. Oh damn. This wasn’t good.
With a silent sigh, Quinton leaned his head back against the cool surface and closed his eyes. The low, barely audible hum of expensive machinery filled the silence, only broken by the occasional nervous shuffle of feet. He ignored it all. Instead, he counted the seconds as they passed.
If there was one thing Quinton hated, it was enclosed spaces. He hated them even more when said spaces were crowded with other people.
Not that he would have categorized the three employees in the elevator with him as a crowd. Especially since the three were more like scared puppies pressed against the walls, as far away from him as it was possible to get when stuck in a metal tin can suspended in the air by cables.
If Quinton wasn’t tense, he would have probably laughed. As it was, he was almost as tense as they were, although he liked to think he hid it better. Everyone thought he usually closed his eyes on the elevator to meditate as he prepared to enter the office, or so his friend Isaiah told him. That suited Quinton just fine.
Thankfully, the ride up to his office floor took less than 5 minutes, and soon enough, he stepped out into the reception area, which was made up of white walls, a large, white reception desk that looked like a designer’s wet dream with a single Japanese bonsai plant at the corner providing the only color in the space.
By the time Quinton walked into his large office that took up a third of the floor, he was breathing easier and ready to tackle the day, although it looked like his plans to jump straight into work would be derailed for a few more minutes, given that someone was already seated behind his desk.
Quinton narrowed his eyes at the bearded man with floppy black hair falling over his forehead. “Isaiah.”
“Morning, boss.”
Quinton fought the urge to roll his eyes. Instead of walking over to his desk as he’d planned, he walked over to the conference table that sat on the other end of the office.
Setting his chocolate pastry on the table, Quinton leaned against it and took a sip of his coffee, his eyes on his friend. He didn’t have to wait long.
“I see that maintenance still hasn’t replaced your coffee maker,” Isaiah said, the corners of his lips twitching.
Maintaining a blank expression, Quinton shrugged. “They seem to be facing a challenge finding the model I require.”
“Mhm.” Isaiah nodded in mock seriousness. His eyes then moved to the pastry on the table. “Is that a chocolate croissant?”
“I’m not sharing.”
Isaiah gaped before he pouted, which looked absolutely ridiculous on the man who looked like a lumberjack. “I thought I was your best friend.”
This time, Quinton rolled his eyes. “You are also a grown man who could have grabbed his own before getting up to my office.”
“Actually, no.” Isaiah stood up from Quinton’s seat and walked around the desk. “I got in before the café opened. I had a lead to chase.”
Quinton instantly stiffened. He didn’t even argue when Isaiah reached the table and picked up the pastry without asking. He just kept his narrowed eyes on the man. “And?” he asked impatiently, even as he ignored the delicious smell of chocolate that filled the air as soon as Isaiah tore the wrapper open.
Being extra annoying, Isaiah licked the corner of his mouth where a bit of the chocolate glaze had stuck as he took an obscene bite out of the croissant. Thankfully, he chewed before he spoke.
“Oh, we definitely have a problem.”
