Page 15 of Good Boy

He stepped out of the vehicle, and I nearly collapsed back into my seat, my heart threatening to pound out of my chest.

What the ever-loving fuck was that?

I hopped out of the car behind him, my legs shaky. He clicked the elevator call button and scrolled through his phone, neither of us saying a word as we stood side by side. When the doors opened, I quickly pushed the button for our floor. The space felt small and thick with tension.

Weston glanced at me from the corner of his eye, and I saw something burning in his gaze before he looked away—confirming that I hadn’t just imagined things between us. His knuckles turned white around his phone as the elevator moved slowly. His chest rose and fell more rapidly.

The doors parted, and he stepped out, walking straight toward his office. I stayed in place as the doors began to close behind me. My whole body thrummed with confusion.

What the hell was I doing? This was Weston, for fuck’s sake. My fucking uncle, and the asshole who'd been making my life a living hell ever since my dad died.

I followed him to his office and ignored the stares that stayed glued to me as I moved down the hall. I was certain half of the stares were people wondering how Weston got me in a suit, and the other half wondering if some kind of demonic spirit possessed me and Weston didn’t know. Weston headed straight for his desk, dropping his phone and the newspaper he picked up near the front of the building.

“I’ll be back. Sit down and don’t touch anything.”

Once he disappeared, I twirled his large leather office chair around and planted my ass in it as I observed the Chicago skyline. Lost in thought about the incident in the car, and everything that happened at the tailor, I stared out until a sudden vibration sliced through the air, shattering my concentration. I spun around to see a text from Cynthia.

Cynthia

Dinner tonight with Brian. Remember, he’s married. Reminding you so we avoid another incident.

Incident? I leaned in and picked up the phone. I was about to put it down, but then my gaze sliced to the empty hallway. No sign of Weston. Unsure if his phone was locked, I slid the text to the left and pressed reply, and it opened.

Weston

What incident?

I waited. My gaze teetered between the row of bubbles taunting me and the hallway. Weston was always heard before he was seen. He got off on letting people know he fucking existed.

Cynthia

Just keep your hands to yourself. Please.

Just as my thumbs touched the key pad, Weston’s voice boomed from the elevator banks. It wouldn’t be long before he came pounding down the hallway. I deleted the text I sent her and clicked his phone off. Jumping up from his chair right as his footsteps echoed across the marble flooring, I faced the bookcase of law books like I gave a shit.

“I didn’t know you could read.”

“I did graduate from a top private college.”

“Anything’s possible with my father’s checkbook.” A tight smiled pulled at the corners of his lips as he reached for his phone.

“Your wife texted. Dinner tonight with Brian,” I mocked, my fingers gliding over the worn spines of the books.

He groaned, something he did any time Cynthia opened her mouth or even reminded him that she existed. He picked up his phone and scanned the message before shoving it into his pocket.

“I have a meeting now. He’s waiting in the conference room.”

He grabbed his laptop, and I walked toward his desk with the intent to follow him out of the office.

“Stay here. I don’t want you embarrassing me in front of clients.”

I shrugged and strolled around his desk before sinking back into the soft leather of his chair.

He raised a brow. “Don’t get too comfortable.”

He started toward the door, his head held high, shoulders back, and stick secure up his ass.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” I said as I placed both feet on top of his desk.