Page 151 of Hot Tycoons Boxset

“I like this wording. I think this could really get the message across,” he tells me, a broad smile on his handsome face.

Working alongside him and getting to know him a bit has dimmed the creepy factor that Jenna and I saw in him. It is fun working alongside him. He is a stickler for details but then so am I. It does irk me at times that he likes to be appraised of everything that is happening, but then the client is always right.

Besides, since he sticks around the office until late, I am not completely alone.

I didn’t see the mysterious figure after that one time, but the frequency of the gifts increased in the past week, and they graduated from flowers and chocolates. Two days ago, I found a small gift box on my office table. It held an old t-shirt that I had tossed out a few weeks back.

It had shaken me so much that I had called up my apartment building and had asked for an increase in the security around the building and had them install a biometric alarm system on my floor. And then, before anyone could show up, I had meticulously burnt that T-shirt in the trash bin.

However, a few of the gifts came in the form of envelopes, which held photos of me, eating at my favorite restaurant or hanging out at the bar with Fergus. One box that had really freaked me out had been a pair of crotchless panties.

One of my childhood friends is in a high position in the police department. Calling Henry up is something that I am starting to consider, although I have taken precautions. Henry is replacing his father as the commissioner. We had dated on and off for a while before we had settled for just remaining friends.

I stare at my phone, lost in thought.

Maybe it is time I call him up and let him know.

“…what do you think?”

I look up. “Huh?”

George stares at me, and then slowly repeats, “About going to New York with me to speak to my partners.”

I shake my head. “Ah, no. No. That’s too time-consuming and not efficient. It’s better you go, filter and work out what you guys want, and then we’ll work with that.”

He looks a little disappointed at that but picks up his coat. “Well then. I’ll fly back tomorrow. How are you doing now?”

I blink at him, and he gives me a hesitant smile. “I’m asking about your dizziness spell. You’ve been a little off this evening.”

I wave off his concern, forcing my focus on him. “No, I’m fine. Shouldn’t have missed breakfast and lunch. Thank you for bringing food.”

He smiles again, a genuine curving of the lips. “Well, I can’t say it’s not been a pleasure working with you so far. I’ve enjoyed our night sessions far too much.”

I chuckle, “So have I. I guess I’ll see you in a few weeks?”

“You can bet on it.”

I want to leave as well, but I have to sign a few documents and reread two contracts before I can leave. So, bidding him goodbye, I watch him leave before locking myself in my office and closing the blinds.

I get to work, but Ian’s appearance has thrown my focus off by a lot, and after a few minutes of attempting to get some work done, I sigh and put my head on the table.

I lashed out at him. I wanted to hurt him, to make him bleed as my heart had done when he walked away from me. A part of me shattered when he turned his back to me at a moment when I desperately reached out to him, terrified.

I don’t trust easily.

Even with Philip and our friends, there is a part of me that always holds myself back. I don’t know how to ask somebody for help with something that is important.

Sure, I can ask for a ride or stay over at their place if I need to, but they always knew me to be self-assured and independent. My problems weren’t something I talked about, not even with myself. I bury them like everything else.

But for the first time, I found myself reaching out for somebody, and the way I was brushed off, it hardened the walls that had been there around my heart.

I get back to work, and a few hours later, well past midnight, I hear a quick rap on my glass door.

My heart panicking, one hand immediately goes to the drawer holding the gun, and one goes to the bat, and I look up.

My eyes meet Zayn’s, and I wince when his gaze narrows at where my hands were.

This is going to suck.

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