Page 70 of Hunt

“I better go,” I told Ronan as I moved away from that handsome, tall, clean-cut man with a strapping body that made me shiver just looking at him.

He gave me a sharp look that bothered me a little before stepping back inside his office. My heart thudded heavily against my ribcage as his loomed before me.

Taking a deep breath, I tapped on his door and listened for instructions before pushing the door open.

“Dinner,” I announced, trying to keep my voice cheerful. However, I realized it was out of character because I never had a cheerful voice, which only made me look suspicious.

As usual, Mr. Kaiser’s stare was intimidating under his dark eyelashes, knives flying out of his eyeballs and landing in my skull. Sweat poured down my back as I took the tray out of the warmer and held it in my hands until he told me where to put it.

His laptop was on his desk, and instead of instructing me, his fingers started tapping on the keyboard. As he did that, I plotted where to plant the bugs. Honestly, his unlikable attitude made my job easier.

I cleared my throat, and he ignored me, so I stepped closer to his desk. “Um, sir, Mr. Kaiser, where-”

He held up his hand to hush me, then continued to tap on his laptop as the tray's weight was burdening me, and a dull ache traveled up my forearm to my shoulders. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I placed it on the desk opposite him, and his head looked up to glare at me. To avoid his penetrating stare, I crouched down below the line of the desk to pretend to do my shoelaces up.

While I was out of his firing line, I stuck a bug under his desk, then popped up again, apologizing, “I’m so sorry, Mr. Kaiser, my lace was untied.”

Immediately, I picked the tray up and stood there waiting until he directed me. “Just leave it where you had it,” he stated indifferently.

“Sure. Okay,” I smiled, backing away, as a little voice inside my head screamed,“Don’t look at the camera. Don’t look at the camera.”

“Glass,” his voice cut through my anxiety, and I looked back. Damn. I wasn’t out of the warzone yet.

“Pardon?” I questioned, unsure of what he was referring to.

“Pour me a glass,” he instructed, pointing to the liquor cabinet with the bottle of whiskey on top, with two crystal tumblers resting beside it.

“No problem,” I said in a hushed voice as my heart thudded doggedly, stirring nausea and a rising panic attack.

My hands were aching and numb from holding the weight of the tray, so when I seized the neck of the whiskey bottle, I struggled to lift it since it was two-thirds full. It slipped from my grasp and landed on the tray, making a loud bang.

“I’m so sorry,” I pleaded, more embarrassed by the banging noise that made him flinch rather than that I almost smashed the entire thing.

Using both hands to lift it, I shakily poured a glass, but spilled a little onto the tray as the sweet scent rose and met me. An imposing figure stood over me, and I gasped in fright because I hadn’t noticed that he had left his chair.

I swallowed over a lump in my throat as his large hand wrapped around the neck of the bottle over my hand and held it tightly. His warm breath tickled the top of my head as his body heat blistered my skin, trapping me in a space I couldn’t escape from.

My cheeks burned as heat traveled down my neck and started to itch, and I was worried that a heat rash might have erupted, marring my skin. He said nothing. His entire vibe was to pretend I wasn’t there, a doormat to walk all over, rather than acknowledge my existence.

After pouring the whiskey, he placed it back down as warmth clamped my spine, and just when I realized he was touching me, he stepped away with his glass and sat back down.

“Is that all?” I asked, placing a hand on my cheek to feel how hot it was.

“No,” he replied, lowering his eyes to focus back on the laptop screen.

I exhaled as the words, “Thank fuck,” radiated in my mind and I had to stop myself from saying them aloud. I could escape. I could finally escape.

As I walked to the door, “Ah, hang on,” he asserted, annoyed.

I looked back, aching to leave. “Yes?”

“You forgot something,” he seemed angry, and my worst nightmare came to pass. He knew. He knew I planted the camera. Somehow, he saw me do it. My life passed before my eyes. This was where it ended. This was where I took my last breath.

“I’m sorry?” I apologized for the hundredth time since I walked into the office. Should I run? Where would I go?

“You forgot something,” he repeated glaring at me with narrowed eyes as if I was a blob of dog shit. I screwed him over once before and I tried to screw him over again, but he caught me in the act. I revolted against him.

“What do you mean?” I played dumb and cast my eye around the office, looking for the thing I had forgotten. The tray was resting on his desk, and the trolley was waiting in the hall. What had I missed? There was only one other option. The bug was stuck under his desk.

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