Page 2 of Night Latch

I locked my front door behind me and took a few steps down the walkway, but my driver wasn’t there. Where the hell was Otto? My new driver was supposed to be waiting for me five minutes ago. With a clenched jaw, I checked my watch again. “Godammit!”

Just as I pulled out my phone to call him, the sleek black SUV finally pulled up. I wrenched open the door before Otto could get out to open it for me. "You're late."

He shut his door and threw his arm over the passenger seat so he could see me. "I'm so sorry, sir. I had a flat tire on the?—"

"I don't want excuses, Otto. I expect punctuality from my employees."

"Of course, Mr. Sinclair.” He nodded and looked right at me. I hadn’t noticed how turquoise his eyes were until they were boring to me. “It won't happen again."

I grunted, already scrolling through emails on my phone. The day was off to a spectacular start.

Twenty minutes later we stopped in front of my office building. I finished typing a text to my assistant, and before I could reach for the door handle, Otto was already opening the door for me. "Watch your step, sir. There's a puddle?—"

Too late. My Italian leather shoes squelched as I stepped directly into a massive puddle. "For fuck's sake!" I hopped out of the puddle and rounded on Otto. "Are you completely incompetent? First you're late, now you can’t even park in a dry spot?"

“I’m so sorry.” Otto paled and began to stammer out some lame apology.

But exhaustion and frustration had frayed the last of my patience, and I didn’t have time for his shit. "Enough! Just get your shit together, or you'll be looking for a new job. Understood?"

"Yes, Mr. Sinclair.” He held his hand out to me as if I needed his help to stay upright.

I cut him off with a curt wave and stormed toward the front of the building. As soon as I was away from Otto, I realized the subtle scent of his cologne or shampoo or something was actually…calming. He was lucky for that.

It wasn't until I was in the elevator that the anger drained away and I felt hollow inside. Even more hollow than usual. Christ, I was being a dick. It wasn't Otto's fault I was a sleep-deprived mess. If an opportunity presented itself to make it up to him somehow, I’d try. But first, I needed to address the root of the problem.

It was time to bite the bullet and find a new night nurse. Either way, I had to get some real sleep before I completely self-destructed and took my company down with me.

2

OTTO

The way Mr. Sinclair's voice sliced through the air still made me cringe, even though I’d dropped him off almost an hour ago. I just hated disappointing someone who was paying me to be reliable.

Above all things, I prided myself on being reliable.

While Mr. Sinclair seethed at my tardiness, completely ignoring that I even existed, I snuck glances at him in the rearview mirror. He was the hottest CEO I’d ever seen in person, and I saw a lot of sexy CEOs in Aspen. Every time I stopped a light, I stared at his sharp jawline and the way his full lips moved slightly when he read.

God, he was gorgeous. And so far out of my league it was laughable.

Especially since he was likely going to fire me by the end of the day. I was glad to be heading home now. Unless he called me for a mid-day ride, I wasn’t expected back at his office until five, and he’d told me that he rarely left before six. During the few days that I’d been driving the CEO, I’d begun to have delusions thathe might recognize some great brilliance or leadership traits in me and offer me a job in his company. It was one of the movers and shakers in the tech world, and I’d give anything to a job with some kind of upward mobility.

I enjoyed working in the service industry but dealing with rich assholes was losing its novelty. On good days, the tips were great. But on bad days, I wanted to quit and head back to Denver where I had friends and a community that actually liked me.

In Aspen, I was completely alone. I moved for a change of pace, but that change hadn’t proven to be an improvement so far. And now it was clear this job wasn’t going to be my big break.

Once I got home, I stripped off my uniform and collapsed onto my lumpy futon. What a fucking disaster. The TV was a good distraction, but after a few hours of zoning out to boring game shows, I made a sandwich and then took a nap.

When I woke up, I still had some time before I needed to get back to the office and wait for Mr. Sinclair, so I pulled out my phone and clicked the bookmark to my favorite porn site. My body moved on auto-pilot when I was in decompression mode. A little relief was always a sure way to take the edge off before I had to face Mr. Sinclair again.

Just as I was settling into a movie about some cock slut begging to be spanked, my phone rang. It was an unfamiliar number, so I considered ignoring it, but then I worried it might be a colleague or associate of Mr. Sinclair, and I couldn’t risk pissing him off even more.

With my dick still in my hand, I hit accept. "Hello?"

"Hello. May I speak with Otto Klein?"

I sat up straighter, surprised by the official tone. "Yes, this is Otto."

"Hi, Otto. I'm calling from The Lactin Brotherhood. We have you listed as living in Aspen and open to gig work. Is that still accurate?"

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