Page 59 of Owen North

Bradford:What’s this dinner for tomorrow night that your assistant emailed me about?

Owen: A client of mine. Just be there.

Bradford: Jesus. They must be an asshole if you’re arranging a last-minute dinner.

Owen: He’s got cash to burn.

Bradford: The only kind of asshole I like. I’ll bring the scotch.

My friend may regret his decision when he learns just how much of an asshole Ron can be. But I want him at that dinner. And I wasn’t wrong that Ron has cash to invest. Bradford is always open to meeting investors.

I put my phone down and stretch my neck to one side and then the other.

I glance at the time.

6:43 p.m.

It’s been a long day and I’ve still got at least a couple of hours work ahead of me.

My focus tonight is putting together a proposal for Ron to present to him at dinner tomorrow night. I intend on offering him a new contract that lowers his fees. Something I’ve never done for any other client. In exchange, he’ll let go of his demand for me to remove Jill as COO. It should be a no-brainer for him, but that’s only if he considers it from the angle of making money. If Jill’s wedged herself in his brain emotionally, I won’t have a hope in hell of moving him past that demand.

A text lights up my phone, letting me know the takeout I ordered has arrived.

I make my way out to the elevators and meet the delivery guy.

“Thanks, Terry,” I say as I take the food from the guy who almost always delivers when I work late and order dinner in.

“Two nights already this week, Owen. You gotta get yourself a woman.”

“I agree.”

He grins. “I know a few if you ever need me to hook you up. Although, they might be a little rowdy for you.”

I return his smile. “You might be surprised at just how much I like rowdy. But I’m good for now.”

“Good to hear, man. Good to hear.” He points at me. “I hope I don’t see you again this week.”

He steps back into the elevator, and I head into the break room to find cutlery.

The office is quiet at this time of day, something I appreciate. I find the solitude between the hours of 4:00 a.m. and 6:00 a.m., and after 7:00 p.m. to be the best for getting work done. Tonight, I note only a few other employees still here.

As I turn to enter the break room, I catch sight of Charlize sitting at her desk outside Jill’s office which is at the far end of this floor.

I stop and watch her for a moment. She’s quite a distance away, so I can’t see her in great detail, but she appears to be hunched over staring at her computer screen. As I’m watching, she starts shaking her head and throws her arms in the air before leaning back in her chair, looking at the ceiling, and muttering something to herself.

My feet are moving in her direction before I can stop them.

A voice in the back of my head is telling me not to do this.

That I’ll regret it.

But everything in me is driving me toward Charlize, and there’s not a force in this world that could stop me.

“It’s a good thing you’re not a quitter,” I say when I reach her.

She was so absorbed in what she was doing that I catch her by surprise. Her head jerks to look at me. “Jesus, Owen, how do you not know that sneaking up on a woman is something you should never do? For future reference, you may be harmed in the making of these situations. And for the record, I am definitely not a quitter. If this computer”—she stabs her finger at her computer—“ends up smashed against a wall, it did that all by itself, okay?”

It's mind-boggling how okay I’d be with having to replace that computer.

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