Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 58962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
“I-I don’t know how Eugene usually does it, but I have to follow procedure.” I tried to keep my voice level, but it sounded thin and strained to my ears. I swallowed. “So, signatures, and then I can transfer the funds.”
Nobody moved.
“Please.”
Mr. Burke thrust his license at me and signed the form I set before him with trembling fingers.
“Thank you,” I said, overly brightly then looked at Expensive Suit. “And yours?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“It’s my account,” Mr. Burke blurted, his eyes bouncing between us like in a tennis match. “They’re all my accounts. Mr. Lazano’s signature isn’t necessary.”
Riiiiiiight. Fuck.
Well, there wasn’t much else I could do.
“Got it.” I nodded and recorded the information in my log then added my signature.
Okay, I had a paper trail. It might cover my ass.
Good job, me.
Except now I had evidence against them. Which…
Shit!
They probably weren’t going to just let me walk away with this, were they? The only proof of the interaction was in my log. My log. I was involved in this now because it wasn’t only proof of what they were doing but that I was here when they did it. Which meant I might not be leaving this penthouse.
I just royally shot myself in the foot.
“Okay, let’s get this transfer going.” I used my most chipper voice as cold sweat dripped down my sides beneath my blouse.
“How about now?” Mr. Lazano sounded anything but mollified.
I logged into the client’s banking portal—already bookmarked, already saved—and pulled up the transfer batch waiting in drafts.
All I had to do was approve it, which I did.
Now, with that done, I needed to get the fuck out of here.
I set the laptop on the coffee table and smiled brightly. “Okay, while that’s going through, I’m just going to run to the restroom. I’ll be right back.” I jumped to my feet.
Nobody said anything. No man cared about a woman and what she did in the bathroom.
“Be right back!” I sing-songed, grabbing my purse and making a beeline for the door.
I left the laptop, the paperwork, my notary stamp, and log–all the evidence. They had what they wanted.
Hopefully, they’d let me walk out of here.
My heart pounded, and sweat trickled down my back. I opened the door and stepped out, then broke into a run.
The elevator was halfway down the long hall. I pulled up my tight skirt to sprint to it, trying my best in my stilettos. I pushed the call button. Then again.
“Come on,” I muttered, glancing back toward the penthouse.
Maybe I was being foolish. It was true that I couldn’t trust my own instincts–they always led me astray.
Well, if I’d just abandoned the company laptop and paperwork for nothing, Eugene could patch up this mess later when he got released from the hospital. I could say I had diarrhea or something and had to run.
But the door to the penthouse pushed open.
Shit. Were they coming after me? I wasn’t sticking around to find out. I glanced up at the up and down arrows above the elevator. Nothing.
My only option was to take the stairs. I ran down the hall away from the penthouse, turned the corner and–
A burly guy wearing a flannel and jeans came through the doorway from the emergency stairwell.
Fuck!
Was he one of theirs? Blocking the exit?
“You take the stairs. I’ll take the elevator.” A gruff voice carried around the corner.
Oh God. They were chasing me! Fortunately, this wasn’t their guy coming up from the stairwell because the man swiped his keycard over the electronic lock of a room halfway between me and the stairwell.
I sprinted toward him.
He paused in his open doorway and stared at me, brows slamming down.
Could I make it to the stairwell before the goon rounded the corner?
No. No, I didn’t think I could.
I ran right for the guy, shoving past him into his hotel room.
In perfect choreography, he looped an arm around my back, spun into the room with me, and kicked the door shut with a booted foot.
2
ROY
* * *
Damn. I guessed Fate didn’t hate me after all.
She’d dealt me some pretty shitty cards in the past, so I’d lost faith. But now, I was a believer. Because she just delivered something I hadn’t even dared to hope for. Hadn’t ever asked for. Hadn’t believed would happen for me.
My mate.
Not just to my hotel room but straight into my arms. The second our bodies collided, I’d recognized that the fleeing female was mine.
Her delicious scent swirled around me–the most incredible notes of caramel and sweet bread, marred by the metallic taste of fear. I simultaneously wanted to taste every inch of her and rush out the door to tear the head off whoever the fuck was chasing her and making her afraid. Because someone was after her.
There were at least two of them. My strong shifter hearing picked them up when they divided up in pursuit. I’d seen her look of panic.