Page 104 of Resurrection

She struggles to get the box into her arms and then waddles over to set it on the couch.

“Return address?”

Lilly checks and frowns. “Nothing obvious. But they used a courier, so I’m sure I can track whoever sent it.”

I shake my head. “No, if they used a courier it’s probably Blake or Brooke Belamy. I haven’t heard from them since I got back in the city. It would be like them to send something weighty and ridiculous at the last minute.” A present for the baby, maybe? They had kids.

A smile floats across Lilly’s face. “Yeah, they always liked you.” She glances at me. “We all did. You’ve been a good boss.”

I tip my head at her and return her smile. “Thank you. That means a lot. I’m sure the company will be fine without me, though.”

“I always thought if you left, it would be Eric who took over.” She crosses her arms and shifts on her feet. “I was sorry to hear he died. Though he always made me a bit uncomfortable.”

I run my fingers along my temple. “I’m sorry to hear that.” What else can I say? I’m leaving, and he’s dead. Had I known he was awful to everyone, I might have done something. She’s not the first one to tell me the truth now that he’s gone. I’d like to believe I would have acted swiftly. I’ll never know for sure. “I’m hoping my father picks Daniel or Eliza to take over. As of the end of business today, it’ll no longer be up to me or any of my concern.”

“The whole company will be someone else’s problem.”

“Exactly. Though responsibility might be a better word.” I smile. There have been a lot of good years for me here, in this building, with these people. I might not regret my choice, but I’ll miss some of them.

“I’ll send Daniel and Eliza in. If you need anything, I’ll be at reception.”

“I’ll send my secretary if I have any urgent messages.”

Lilly backs out the door and closes it behind her. I’m tempted to tell her to leave it open, but it might take her a couple of minutes to find our colleagues.

Rising from my chair, I circle the desk and go over to the box. Brooke and Blake enjoy a bit of flair, so it’s odd the box is standard cardboard. Still, I waited until I arrived in Chicago to announce my break from the company was actually a breakup. Might have taken a few days for the news to reach them. I finger the seal and consider opening it. A knock at the door draws my attention, and I step back. “Come in.”

Eliza enters with Daniel on her heels.

“Oh,” she says, spotting the box. “Another admirer?”

I laugh. “Not sure. I’ll open it later. I have a few things to go over on these files I just pulled.”

“Boardroom?” Daniel asks.

“That works,” I agree. “We can spread it out a bit better so I can show you the account progressions and inconsistencies.” Crossing back to my desk, I gather up the stack of paper files.

Daniel leads the three of us out of the office and along the hall to the boardroom. As I close the door, my gaze strays to the box one more time.

When I return to my office, it’s almost four o’clock. As soon as I open my door, the package greets me on the couch where I left it. With a frown, I try to lift it, but it’s heavy. Once my grip is adjusted, I get it into my arms and around to my desk. For a moment, I check over the box to see if I missed an address or a company name somewhere. Blank, apart from my office suite scrawled in black Sharpie.

In my drawers, I find a dull knife to slit open the packing tape. With a few quick movements, I slice through the points where the brown tape is keeping the contents secure. I yank up the four pieces of thick cardboard covering my surprise.

I furrow my brow, and then my eyes go wide. Inside is a large black device with a running clock that looks a hell of a lot like a bomb. My breath catches. The countdown is less than a minute and winding down too quickly. Too fucking quickly.

I can’t watch it, and I can’t seem to stop staring at the numbers running down. So fast. Too fast.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

There isn’t enough time to evacuate the building. No time to call Finn.Oh, God.

Finn.

I shove my thoughts of him out of my head. A solution. Anything. Something. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening.

Opening my desk drawers, I scan for a tool I can use to cut wires. The knife. The knife I used to open the box. Where did I put it? An agonized cry escapes me as I throw things around my desk.

My heart booms in my chest, overwhelming my ears so much I almost don’t hear the beep from the box.

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