Page 100 of Time Stops With You

He looks at me.

“I’m going to handle Nardi. Just be ready for school on time, okay?”

The little boy nods and runs back to the apartment. I watch to make sure he gets in safely before taking the stairs.

On my way down, I call Sara.

“Yes, boss,” she says brightly, despite the late hour.

“I need to install an elevator in the apartment.”

“An elevator? Why? Our offices are on the first floor.”

“Just do it,” I say impatiently. “I want to use the contractor who built our offices. Find out his price and double it.”

“On it, sir.”

I hang up with Sara and order a cab. Once I get home, I wash my hands, change out of my outside clothes and settle around the table. The food Nardi gave me shines like a brilliant light in the darkness.

With reverent movements, I transfer the meal from the paper plate into my fine china and then I grab a can of kombucha from the fridge.

Before I dig in, I take note of the fragrances, catching notes of both the sweet and spicy. It definitely looks good.

I put a spoonful in my mouth.

One bite is enough to make me moan.

Two bites and I’m sprawled out on the back of my chair in an out of body experience.

“What is this?” I murmur, pushing at the rice and beans with my fork. “Did she put drugs in this?” I tear apart the chicken, marveling at the crispy texture and tender insides. The creamy potato salad is the stuff of dreams.

I’ve never had a meal that knocked my socks off so thoroughly. With every forkful, my greed increases and I want more and more.

The hell is in this?

I’m lucky Big T is the only one who wants to fight for Nardi. It’s a surprise every available man who’s gotten to enjoy her cooking skills isn’t lining up to duel to the death for her hand.

In a blink, the food is gone.

Without hesitation, I lift my plate and lick every drop. It’s my first time and I don’t regret a single swipe of my tongue.

After, I get up to wash the plate and do some more work in my computer room. However, the food drops heavy and Ifeel my eyelids pull lower and lower. The code starts mushing together on the screen and I give up for the night.

For the first time in ages, I go to bed and immediately fall asleep.

The shriek of my alarm wakes me from a warm dream where Nardi is sleeping in my lap while I work on my computer.

Dang it. I wanted to stay in that dream longer.

I get up without the usual grogginess from the sleeping pills. Refreshed, I get ready for the day, reaching for one of my go-to T-shirts and jeans. I change out of my black beanie to a light grey model and head to the kitchen.

After cooking up some French toast, fried eggs, and bacon, I set it all in glass lunch containers, pour out orange juice into miniature glass bottles and head out to the office.

The driver lets me out in front of the office at approximately seven a.m. I have some time before Nardi tries to drop Josiah off to school, so I settle into my office to do some paperwork.

Programming is what I prefer to do but, since I insisted on retaining management rights of Cullen Tech—in order to have a bigger say in our direction—that also means I have to be a CEO rather than a programmer for half of my day.

Sara normally checks my emails but, since I have the time, I go in and take a look. A new email came into my inbox around three a.m. this morning.

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