Page 16 of Bonking the Billionaire

A few feet before he reached me, the elevator doors snapped shut between us.

I hadn’t expected this outing to be entertaining. Sometimes life handed you happy little surprises to crush beneath your heel. If this encounter were to set the tone for my day, I’d be pleased. It would make decisions on where to cut spending far easier than I’d anticipated.

The doors opened when I arrived at my destination. I stepped out into a large floor decorated with fat cement pillars and a maze of tiny cubicles.

I sauntered down the walkways between faux-walls, taking in the clacking of keyboards and hushed tones of people chatting on phones when they were meant to be otherwise occupied with work.

A man and woman stood beside a table covered in baked goods, chattering away.

“—left four voicemails last night,” the man said. “It’s not my fault he lied and said he was working late. She’s already called once this morning. What am I supposed to tell her?”

“Better to say nothing,” the woman said. “You don’t want to get caught in the middle, have her show up and do a Brenda.”

Talk of infidelity made my muscles tense. I brushed it off.

I approached as if I belonged here, then stopped at the table and feigned indifference as I perused the baskets of bagels and danishes.

The baked goods actually looked decent. Did that mean I was paying for them?

The pair pretended not to be looking at me.

“Don’t mind me,” I said. “I didn’t get the chance to eat before I rushed out the door this morning.”

“The raspberry cream is to die for.” The man nodded toward the basket of danishes.

“Thanks,” I picked up the pastry he’d suggested.

I would never get used to being spoken to like some sort of royalty. I would never get used to the expensive suits or fancy charity events or any other part of this new world that I’d been thrust into when my father had died two months ago.

But I was right at home in business. Half of business was listening to what people said, and noticing what they didn’t.

I needed to find out who the pastry man was an assistant for. His affair wasn’t my business, unless it was. If a man was lying in one aspect of his life, and doing so in my building, it was possible he was being dishonest in other ways as well.

“I’m new in—” I started.

A clammy hand clenched around my wrist.

“Gotcha.” The bald man from the elevator stepped in front of me, wagging his finger again. “What do you think you’re doing? You were supposed to be here over an hour ago.”

The gossiping pair returned to their whispering, this time watching me with interest. The woman pulled out a bag of Skittles and grinned at me.

The bald man clearly wasn’t speaking to either of them, and no one else had magically appeared over my shoulder. Even at this proximity, he appeared certain he knew who I was. Clearly he did not.

“You show up late and don’t think I’ll notice?” He spat his words at me. “And what’s with the get up?”

I looked myself up and down. I wasn’t wearing my tie or jacket, but my dress shirt and slacks were perfectly acceptable. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”

He snorted. “Hilarious. If you think you’ll get promoted out of scrubbing toilets by wearing fancy shoes, you’re delusional.”

“I’m the janitor,” I said, only half in question.

“Did you get hit in the head or something? Of course you’re the janitor. I swear, I don’t get paid enough for this.”

This was going even better than I’d anticipated. Instead of eavesdropping and relying on the word of others, I’d been granted access to every room in the building. Aside from the current charade, I’d be virtually unnoticeable as I conducted my investigation.

“Don’t look at me like that. That’s cactus-wilting intensity, and it’s creeping me out. Come on.” He poked my shoulder.

I decided to follow him, matching his stride. He seemed so certain he knew who I was, which left me wondering why exactly that was.

---