Page 13 of City of Wind and Lies

Rolling my shoulders back, I stride over to the microwave with confidence, put the cup in, and lay the lid on a napkin to the side as I punch in two minutes and press start, all while keeping my back to Bowie.

I tap my fingernails on the counter as my anxiety climbs higher with each second that falls off the timer. I don't know what I'm waiting for, but as the screen reads 1:27, two large hands suddenly cage me against the counter.

Faded black Roman numerals and x's mar the spaces between his knuckles, a black rose bleeding out from beneath his silver Rolex onto the back of one hand and on the other, black lines creep from beneath the crisp cuff that conceals the full design. I've seen the power these hands hold; the way they can go from damaging to delicate in a matter of moments- and now, they’re just inches away from mine.

His warm breath skates across the shell of my ear in a growly whisper. "You sure you're okay, Wren?"

It doesn't matter that his words aren't sexy. The way he says them is enough to make my heart seize, a chill coursing through my veins and making my toes curl inside my H&M wedge heels.

I close my eyes, letting the heat of his body and his scent envelop me. I've never been one to color outside the lines, but this man does something to me that makes me want to scribble across the whole page.

Drawing in a ragged breath, I shift slowly in the confines of his arms, my back pressing against the laminate countertop. "I'm okay. Allen's just a-" beep! the microwave sounds, "a creep."

His face is passive, eyes dark as he pins me with his gaze and does the last thing I'd expect him to- he laughs.

It's small; a deep rumbling that stays in his throat as the corner of his mouth twitches up into a lazy smirk. "Is that so?" he asks, pushing off the counter to lean back against the island and folding his arms across his chest.

I force myself to turn around and busy myself with getting my coffee, because the ache between my legs only grows stronger the more I look at him. I can't have this reaction to my boss. I mean, he doesn't even remember me and I'm reading way too far into this. He was just concerned for his employee. He probably called me in here to make it look less obvious if I were to snitch on Allen. Right?

I've planned my exit, a way to sashay out of here looking cute and seductive to test the boss's intentions. But, when I turn back around, he's gone. How did such a big man move so quietly?

Well damn, maybe I am making this out to be more than it is.

Bowie's threat to Allen must've registered, because come Friday afternoon, the file is in my inbox and quickly becomes the bane of my existence.

For fucks sake. I must've tried at least a dozen times to open it, but the file is partially corrupted. Tired of wasting my time, I decide to just take it home with me and see if Drea can help. She majored in software engineering before switching to business management at the end of Sophomore year.

Grabbing my phone, I shoot a text off to her, seeing if she’s working tonight. I'm hoping I can bribe her with margs and queso to try to restore this file for me. Locking my phone, I lean back in my chair, pinching the bridge of my nose with a groan. A mild headache has started to set in after staring at all this data today.

"Hey, I'm heading out. You okay?" Cami asks, digging around in her purse from her position in my doorway.

"Mhm, yeah." I glance over at the clock. "I'll be close behind you."

Keys in hand, she shifts her purse on her shoulder. "Well, have a good weekend!"

"You too," I call out as she crosses the lobby.

My phone vibrates on the hard surface of my desk, and I tap the screen to see Drea's acceptance of my bribe. Yes! I power down my laptop, slip it into my bag, and start placing my pick-up order at the Salty Sombrero as I hurry off toward the elevator.

When I get down to the parking garage, it's eerily silent, and something about it just feels off. I unlock my car, slide my keys between my fingers, and quickly stride over to my Honda. Just as I grab for the door handle, a hand lands on my shoulder, making me scream as I spin around, ready to shove a key into someone's jugular.

"Whoa there," Allen placates, hands flying up as he takes a step backward.

My hand lands on my chest, trying to physically stop my heart from breaking through my ribcage. "Why would you sneak up on me like that?!"

He chuckles lowly. "I didn't mean to, I tried to catch you before you got on the elevator but I wasn't fast enough, so I took the stairs."

I let out a sigh, running a hand through my hair. "Okaaay, what did you need?"

"To give you this." He produces a thumb drive from his shirt pocket, thrusting it into my face.

I don't reach for it. Instead, I adjust my bag on my shoulder and let my resting bitch face speak for itself.

He extends his arm again, exaggerating the motion of handing it to me. "I think the file I sent you earlier saved wrong, so I wanted to give you a different copy just in case."

Jeeze, Wren, you've been binging too much 'You' on Netflix.

“Oh,” I say, taking the thumb drive from him. "Thanks. That was nice of you."

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