“Yes, you can call me Mr Lowell,” I deadpan, walking off in the direction of Elliot’s office. It’s at the opposite end of the floor, the mirror of my own. I don’t knock.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I ask, stepping into the room. He is standing in his office bathroom, rearranging his tie. “Actually, don’t answer that.” I don’t want to know.
I walk to his desk and start looking through his paperwork, my brows rising in shock when I see he has been working.
“Don’t act so surprised, asshole. I’ve been in five days this week.” He strides back into the office, looking cocky.
“I’m more concerned than surprised.” I place my hand on his forehead. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Fuck off, Lowell,” he snaps, batting my hand away. “My dad’s been in my ear. If I don’t start doing more, he’ll be coming out of fucking retirement,” he grumbles, pushing his blond mop out of his eyes.
“Hey, I’m kidding,” I say honestly. “It’s good to have you here, mate.” I drop down onto the chair opposite his desk. “I just spoke to Charles. He’s on his way over.”
“Good, I called Sullivan up as well,” he says.
As he says it, Alice buzzes through the intercom. “I have Charlie and Lance here for you, Elliot, Mr Lowell.”
Elliot sits back, affronted, before he leans in and speaks to Alice through the speaker. “You don’t need to tell us that. They should be on the approved list. And it’s Mr Montgomery, thanks,” he tells her.
And rightfully so, she needed to hear it from Elliot too. The line of professionalism around here is thinning by the day. We need a good shakeup. Elliot being in the office more is a start.
Charlie and Lance stroll in and start chatting shit with Elliot while I order in our lunch. It’s been months since we have all been in the office together. Charles Aldridge—our best friend—is a lawyer and works in an office just a few minutes up the road. We have known him since college. He opened his own firm six years ago and now has four spread out over the country. Turning over five million pounds last year, it’s safe to say he’s doing alright for himself.
Lance Sullivan works downstairs, running our accounts department. He’s two years younger than the three of us, but it doesn’t show. Not only does he fit with us, but he also keeps the company financially stable—A multimillion pound company. He may be a prick at times, but he is a savage, and I wouldn’t have anyone else in his place.
“We are going out tonight, yeah?” Sullivan asks when I’m off the phone.
I stand and walk to the sofa, leaning against the back of it. “Yeah, I’m game. Where you thinking?” I ask.
“Somewhere that’s got plenty of pussy.” Elliot smiles, stretching back in the seat and widening his knees.
Charlie cringes, thwacking him in the gut with a cushion and making Elliot shoot forward.
“I’d start looking at the quality instead of quantity if I were you, mate,” Charlie tells him.
He shrugs. “That’s what my forties are for. I’m in my prime and ready to give a good ribbing.”
“You’re pure filth, Montgomery.” Charlie chuckles.
“Sue me!” Elliot replies.
“Please, fucking sue him,” Lance pipes up. “He wouldn’t stand a chance in prison,” he laughs.
“Fucking funny, Sullivan. Keep it up, and you can eat in your office on your own.”
“Calm your tits, Elliot. He was only joking?—”
My eyes snap up when Vinny walks into the room. I don’t think I had any appointments today. Have I missed something? It wouldn’t surprise me if I had. My mind has been preoccupied this past week.
“Alright, Vin?” I ask.
“A word,” he says.
I look to the boys. “It’s fine. What’s up?”
His jaw locks, annoyance etching the lines of his face. “Nina Anderson. You asked me to let you know… she is currently at The Elm café with Joey Wilson.”
Joey fucking Wilson. I should have known he wouldn’t listen; the little prick has a death wish.
