I brush strands of dark hair back off his brow. “For you, I can be anything you need me to be.”
“I only ever want you to be yourself, Keats.” Tears glisten in his eyes. “Because you are so fucking perfect, and I will love you until my dying breath.”
15
KEVEN
Istep into the glass elevator of the prestigious building in Boston and press the button for the top floor. Turning around, I admire the view of the harbor as I shoot toward the office space occupied by S.I.S.S., which is an acronym for Superhero IT Support Services. My lips curve of their own volition, and without knowing it, I can guess Xavier Daniels is behind the quirky name. Somehow, I don’t see the straitlaced Sawyer Hunt suggesting it. Though, he did don a superhero costume, complete with a cape, and hang a large banner of the image along the side of his father’s old office building in New York when he was trying to win his man back.
It must have worked because they have been happily married for years, and the IT consultancy business they co-own maintains a high reputation within the industry and with high-profile clients.
Which is why I am here to meet with them. They have asked me several times, in the past few years, if I would come work with them, but the timing was never right.
Until now.
The elevator opens into a narrow, carpeted hallway, and I head toward the set of wooden double doors in front of me. I press the button on the wall-mounted keypad, announcing myself to the woman who replies. Then I’m buzzed into the plush reception area, where one-half of the brains behind this operation is waiting for me.
“It’s okay, Delilah,” Xavier says, glancing over his shoulder at the pretty young receptionist with the sparkly purple-framed glasses. “Keven doesn’t need to sign in. I’ll take it from here.”
“No problem, Xavier,” Delilah says, sending me a flirty smile as she gives me a quick once-over.
Xavier strides toward me, wearing a big grin and a bright red skinny-fit suit with a black shirt. His famous faux hawk is back, and he has it dyed pink, in a look similar to the one MGK is sporting these days. A myriad of tattoos and piercings adorn his tall, toned, lean frame. He looks more like a rock star than a tech genius, and he’s one of the most entertaining, interesting people I know. “Welcome. It’s good to see you, man,” he says.
“You too. Thanks for agreeing to meet with me.”
He slaps me on the back, and I’m conscious of eyes watching our every move.
“Ignore her,” Xavier whispers, jerking his head and motioning for me to walk with him. “She’s the biggest flirt.” I slant him an amused grin because everyone knows there is no bigger flirt than the man walking beside me. Xavier chuckles. “Okay, maybe not the biggest. I can’t go handing my crown to anyone, you know, but it’s all in good fun. She’s a great receptionist. Discreet and efficient and worth her weight in gold.”
He presses his thumb to the keypad beside a set of frosted glass double doors, and they slide open a few seconds later. “I thought I’d give you a quick tour before we meet Grumpy.”
I lift a brow. “Grumpy?”
Xavier stops just inside the door of the large open-plan floor space. “My husband has been a moody prick all week, but I’m sure he’ll be polite to you. No one explains how success goes hand in hand with stress. I’m able to leave a large portion of that at the door when we leave every night, but Sawyer carries it with him like an invisible load on his back. Which is one of the reasons we were delighted to get your call.” He eyeballs me, shielding nothing. “I’m not going to beat around the bush. Hunt will probably bust my balls for laying it on the line, but he can take his aggression out on my ass later.”
I snort out a laugh, grinning widely. There is no denying working closely with Xavier and Sawyer will be far more entertaining than my current job at the bureau.
“We need you,” Xavier continues, his expression and tone serious. “You can name your price if our proposal isn’t to your liking.”
“Proposal?”
“I’ll let Hunt explain,” Xavier says, lifting a shoulder and urging me to walk.
“It’s not about the money,” I say, falling into line beside him. “For me, it’s about job satisfaction and finding a role that will better suit my family life.”
“We are very flexible,” Xavier explains as we walk past row upon row of workstations. “Our HR person is the bomb, and she has implemented cutting-edge policies and programs that have seen our retention rate rise.”
Most everyone wears headphones or earbuds, and they are bent over expensive laptops and desktop computers, tapping away on keyboards. A few people congregate in groups, heads bent together, deep in discussion. There is no formal dress code, and the men and women I see before me are wearing a vast array of clothing. Brightly colored framed prints adorn the walls, and there are potted plants and flowers dotted all over the place. Desks overflow with personal paraphernalia. In all corners of the room, there are small coffee stations with adjacent water dispensers.
“The people you see here make up only a fraction of our workforce. Many of our teams work from their homes. We have employees all over the US and in different parts of the world. Because of the nature of our work, most of it can be done at times that suit the employees. We are deadline driven, and as long as the work is delivered on time, we don’t care if they work one day out of seven, or work through the night, or duck out during the day to pick up their kids from school.”
“That’s commendable, but how do you ensure confidentiality and prevent data breaches?”
“We only recruit the best skilled and most trustworthy people. Everyone is thoroughly screened to ensure there are no skeletons in their closet. Rogan Anderson is head of IT security, and he has built a robust system that alerts us if anyone tries to copy or print information or tries to log on from a different browser. We have processes in place that safeguard our information and the work we do. Thousands of our clients have deployed these systems, and it’s a big selling point when we tell them we use these systems and processes ourselves.”
Passion exudes from his tone and underscores every word, and he sounds the way I used to sound before the FBI sucked all the enjoyment from my work.
“This is the recreational room,” Xavier says, opening a door to an expansive room with casual seating, a pool table, a large gaming area, and a few TVs. A jukebox and variety of candy machines line one wall. “Next door is the gym.”
