Page 50 of Sweet Lies

“Megan?” I ask sharply, demanding her attention. She doesn’t come to my office often, and usually only when she has bad news.

She turns back around, her mouth still hanging open. “Ah. Yes. Sorry. Ben wanted to check the numbers to see what machines are the most popular.”

She takes a bite of one of her Twizzlers and starts chewing.

“Shit. I forgot he asked for that earlier. My mind…” I mutter, digging through my paperwork.

“I know where your mind’s been, and I don’t blame you. Good for you, boss,” she gushes out mid-chew.

I’d point out that he’s only in town for a little bit, but I’m distracted that I can’t find the report. Plus, the less I talk about him, the better. He’s already under my skin after just one kiss.

Damnit.Where is it? Only Andre can turn my mind to mush with a single kiss. I’m still pissed at him for last time, but still, I crave his touch as I do air. He’s an addiction I can’t seem to break.

“Here,” I say, pushing the paper toward her. “Wait…what…?”

Son of a bitch.

“Boss?” she asks.

“Take this now. I need to find something.”

“Can I help?”

“No,” I snap. “Please leave.”

Hurt enters her eyes at my sharp tone, but I don’t have the time to smooth things over. Damn him.

Over the years, I’ve learned to keep tabs on my patrons in case I need to collect money. All without their knowledge, I’ve been able to find out their habits, address, friends. That folder was on top of the numbers report last I’d seen it. When Andre had me on the desk, he must have snatched it. He used me, and I let him.

My nails dig into the desk, and a headache starts forming behind my right eye.

“Son of a bitch.”

Slamming my hand against the desk, I rush from the office, marching as quickly as I can without drawing attention to myself. I pray he’s still close and I can shoot him where he stands. The gall of this guy.

A few workers eye me as I pass but I ignore their glances.

“Boss.” Joe tries to intercept me.

Not stopping, I call over my shoulder. “I’ll talk to you when I get back.”

He calls after me, “Boss, a man left you a note.”

No, I won’t shoot him—I’ll tear him limb by limb. I know it was Andre who left the note. His balls are getting bigger by the second.

Turning back around, I stomp over to Joe, reminding myself it’s not his fault.

“Give. Me. The. Note.” My teeth bite together sharply with each word.

He pulls out the folded-up notebook page and hands it over. Snatching it, I return to my office and slam the door.

We make a good team. –A

Next time I see him, I’ll show him a good team. Fucking. Ass.

* * *

ANDRE

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