Page 99 of A Bossy Roommate
As we hang up the phone, I can’t help but feel grateful that she’s under medical supervision, appears to be doing well, and taking care of herself—even if it means no more wild nights out on the town—and immediately get up to tell Eden about it. Shealways loves hearing about my aunt’s antics, and this time is no different.
Work goesfrom busy to insanely busy. We’re swamped, I’d even call it hectic. Between planning the details on the first Harbor View project and handling the other clients I’ve been assigned, it means late nights at the office.
Eden is right there with me the whole time.
Between work and home, we’re with each other almost all day every day. She starts to stay later to help keep me organized and, since we’re almost always the first ones to arrive and last ones to leave, she drives with me. Sometimes we drive in my car, sometimes we ride on my Ducati, sometimes we take the extra-long tour. I still remember her huge eyes when I surprised her with a pit stop at Ashford Motors to get her her own helmet and jacket.
Because: life isn’t all work.
But today has been a particularly rough day. I’m annoyed by a delay in materials that were supposed to be delivered two days prior. Eden has been on the phone for hours with the suppliers, trying to figure out where the hell the shipment is. I’m in my office, putting our backup plan into motion in case she can’t straighten things out.
I hear her swear—which she rarely does—and she marches into my office positively fuming. Before I can even get a word out, she hugs me. I’m not expecting it and sort of stand there shell-shocked. I’m not surprised that she touched me, no, I’m used to it by now. I’m surprised by her throwing her arms around meduring work—she’s never done that before. At that specific moment, her in my arms, it doesn’t even occur to me that I should say something about touching in the office. All I do is hug her back and kiss the top of her head.
“Sorry,” she says, quickly pulling back. “I just… I needed a hug.”
Without a second thought, I pull her back in, and rumble, “You don’t have to be sorry about that.”
I hold her for a few moments before she takes a deep breath.
With the cutest smile, she says, “Thanks, all better,” and goes right back to her desk.
It’s the only line we ever cross at work and it’s so endearing and wholesome that I don’t care. My office doesn’t have security cameras. One hug won’t start rumors.
The sex we save for home. It becomes an unspoken ritual. We’ll get to the apartment after a long day, and one of us will shove the other against the wall, or we’ll fall into bed, hands eagerly tearing at each other’s clothes. The sex we have is dirty, filthy, always thorough, but on occasion, slow, loving, and mesmerizing.
And yes, sometimes we indulge in cupcake sex.
It never ends subtly.
Either way, it’s a good way to unwind and makes the days ahellof a lot better.
Legacy continues to expand,and we’re busier than we’ve been for the last few years since I’ve been COO. I like my work, and I like what I do. I run a tight ship and have a good relationship with my staff, our clients, and our distributors. Delegating tasks is essential to getting things done. Over the years, things have fallen into place and are running like a well-oiled machine.
And yet, all of a sudden, it’s like nothing can go right.
My staff tell me on several occasions that there’s a delay of sorts, or our contractors are calling us to ask where shipments and payments are.
Not only that, but rumors also start circulating in the office. Not normal office gossip and nothing about Eden or me. These are old rumors, rumors that have surfaced before, yet always die down. They’re the ones Bradley warned me about a few weeks ago, referring to them as “whispers.”
The major difference this time is, they’re not the good kind, and they’re not going away: It’s believed that someone at Legacy is talking to Ecclestone Construction, revealing company secrets and making it easy for them to swoop in and take clients right from under our noses. Granger Estates isn’t the only account we’ve lost recently. Two smaller clients have also started to opt out of renewing contracts, and another one is insisting on making changes to current projects.
One Friday morning, Eden knocks on my office door.
Normally, if my double doors are closed and she has something to tell me, she’ll either call, send a quick message, or wait until I come out.
I can tell by the look on her face that I’m not about to like our conversation. “What’s wrong?”
“Sorry to interrupt. There’s something I think you should know. Rumors have been going around…”
I’m immediately annoyed.
“…about Huxley.”
I look up. “Do you think there’s any basis to it?”
“Well, normally I don’t, but I think this time it’s different.” She closes the door behind her and takes the seat across from my desk. “I’ve been talking to Gretchen, and Huxley is up to something.”
Yeah. No surprises there. Huxley is always up to something. He’s been on my radar since I’d first heard about the irregularities. “Any specifics?”