Page 2 of Mr Monday
He held his hand out, indicating that I should walk before him.
‘Please, ladies first.’
A shiver rippled through me. It was as if he had touched me with his voice. I’d never been so acutely aware of a man before. I wasn’t so sure I wanted him behind me. I wanted – no,needed– to see him, but that wasn’t to be. I had no clue where to go and continued forward until he gave me directions. Then everything seemed to take a strange turn as he directed me down a maze of halls to what looked like another elevator, a private one. He inserted a card at the bottom of the sensor and I found myself inside in the blink of an eye.
The doors whooshed closed and, if I hadn’t been looking at the numbers showing that we were climbing, I wouldn’t have known if the elevator was going up or down.
We were silent, and I kept my eyes glued to the floor numbers. He was a step behind me, and it was as if he had an effect on the air around us. His size dominated the small but well-appointed elevator. I glanced down at the ground and saw his feet just behind me to the right.
My mom used to say you could tell a person by their shoes. His shoes were mighty fine. Polished. Black and large. The elevator was warm – either that, or my body temperature was spiking. How could it not with a man radiating intense sexy goodness in such close proximity to me? When the doors opened to a small vestibule with glass walls, I was surprised to find we were on the roof. I turned to look at him.
‘The roof? Why—?’ He pushed at the door’s handlebar and it swung open, a leaf that had been caught beneath the doorjamb blowing out. He stared at me, clearly waiting for me to proceed. Was he not aware that we were currently over seventy stories above the ground?
‘Do you not speak much?’ I asked him, and I cringed at the edge I heard in my voice.
Mr Gorgeous smiled. ‘Only when words are necessary.’
I didn’t really know how to reply to that so I narrowed my eyes, then turned my back to him. Even though I couldn’t see him, I was acutely aware of him behind me.
‘Ms Canyon, this way, please.’
Wind rushed in, pulling at my hair. Thank God I’d had it cut. I missed my long, loose curls, but I’d had to make the change, and now I sported a short, layered cut, the thick strands dyed so dark they almost held a blue tinge. I’d remembered to dye my eyebrows, and mascara took care of my lashes. My hair’s normal fiery red was a dead giveaway, as I took after my father. He’d passed his hair down to me, and I treasured it. His nickname had been Rooster, due to his vibrant, unruly hair. I shoved thoughts of him away and stepped on to the rooftop.
‘What’s going on? Why am I up here?’
Mr Gorgeous turned to me. ‘This is the next step in the interview process.’
I frowned, trying to make sense of his comment.
‘What, on the roof?’
Then I heard the sound of an engine and searched it out. To my surprise, there was a helicopter waiting on a helipad at the far end of the roof. A metal catwalk led from the small entryway to the roof and stairs leading up to the waiting helicopter.
‘I don’t understand.’ I turned to face the man, and hesitated. Going up in a helicopter was not on my bucket list. I never flew if I could avoid it, because of my fear of heights.
‘As I said, this is the next step. You either move forward or you turn around and consider the interview over.’
‘What? Just like that? No helicopter, no interview? This is certainly unorthodox.’
Fear started to tighten around my heart. All my strategic plans had, up until this point, gone flawlessly, almost too well to be true.
I gritted my teeth and quickly weighed up my options. There were only two. Turn around and leave, never find the retribution I’d been gunning for all these years and live with regret for the rest of my days, or . . . I turned and looked at the helicopter: get in that thing and fly off to God knows where and keep my plans on track. The company had accused my father of padding his expense account and spending company funds on a mistress, and my plan was to locate expense reports and any other financial records for the executive team back then and, if lucky, perhaps find some recent ones as well. I’d release the documents to the media, prove the executives were all hypocrites. There’s no way my dad did what they said he did; he was honorable to the core and he adored my mother, so the implication that he was having an affair shattered them both. I don’t think my mom ever truly got over it, and I think she believed that he had had an affair. I, on the other hand, was adamant that he was innocent.
Do I follow the white rabbit down the rabbit hole, or do I let the adventure end now? There was no decision to make. I’d made up my mind long before this moment. I would follow the rabbit. I moved toward him and stared at the man head on.
‘Lead the way,’ I told him, and did my best to keep my voice from revealing the panic that had started to build in me.
He smiled and allowed me to pass. I went on to the catwalk. Heights. God, how I hated heights. Rivers of fear barreled up the backs of my legs, over my ass, and clutched my back in a fierce grip, nearly squeezing the breath from my lungs. I stared down at the concrete canyons of New York City, sparkling innocently in the evening twilight. Bah, not so innocent. Far from it.
I started to hyperventilate at the pull of the abyss below.
Slowly and very cautiously, I placed one foot in front of the other, keeping my knees slightly bent, much like a drunk being directed by a cop towalk the line.
Seventy-five stories up.
Outside.
Shit, this was a nightmare coming to life. If only I could wake up and things were back like they were. I wavered, and a steadying hand rested against my waist.
