Page 46 of Craving Danger

Samantha: He came close to wringing my neck a couple of times, but I survived.

MMM: I’m glad to hear that.

Samantha: Did you manage to get some sleep?

MMM: Not a single wink.

Shit.

I feel rotten when I read his reply.

Samantha: I’m so sorry. Can you at least squeeze a nap in today?

MMM: Don’t worry about me. I’ll talk to you later.

I place my cell phone on the desk and turn my attention back to my work. Putting the contract in an envelope, I schedule a pick-up time with the courier Vitale Health always uses.

I take call after call while typing up reports and letters, and when I come up for air, it’s to see it’s past six already.

Getting up from my chair, I stretch my body before I grab all the documents from the printer. I grab my stapler off my desk and head to the empty boardroom so I can use the large table.

Stapling all the reports and contracts, I set them down in neat piles before double-checking all the letters for any errors I might’ve missed when I typed them.

Happy with my work, I gather everything and carry it to Mr. Vitale’s office.

Just as I take hold of the doorknob, it twists beneath my hand. I’m yanked forward as someone opens the door, and I slam into a hard wall of muscle.

Hands grab hold of my arms, and as the documents fall to the ground, my eyes lock on Mr. Vitale’s face.

It only takes a second before it registers that his hands are gripping my biceps.

He’s touching me.

Before I can start panicking, he lets go of me and takes a couple of steps backward.

Feeling rattled, I suck in a deep breath of air before I look at the documents scattered on the floor.

“Why are you still here?” he asks in his usually grumpy tone.

My voice is tight from the shock as I answer, “I wanted to get all the work done.”

I crouch down and gather all the papers.

I didn’t have a panic attack.

In the past, something like this would’ve set me off.

It means my meetings with my mystery man are really working.

Intense relief fills my chest, and it makes me overemotional.

I stand up again, and rushing past Mr. Vitale, I place the stack of documents on his desk.

When I turn around he mutters, “Go home, Miss Blakely.”

Geeze, the man really doesn’t want me at the office today.

“Have a good evening, sir.”

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