In fact, last week, a few employees were trapped inside for an hour because of it. It was supposed to be handled by now, but the company where the parts were ordered from sent the wrong screws. That meant staff would be forced to live with it for a little while longer until the new ones arrived.
A roll of thunder reverberated outside and shot a chill down my spine. In the next second, more lightning flickered, sending a strip of light down the hallway. I sped up, quickly making it to the door and sighing a breath of relief.
The break room, one I spent the last year of my life eating lunch in, was dressed in artificial light from the overheads. As soon as I walked in, I caught sight of the few small tables that were near the wall. On the adjacent one was a line of cabinets, a microwave with its green-lit numbers telling me the time, and a fridge.
And then my attention settled on a body standing at the counter, his back facing the door until he heard the click of my heels.
Weston Taylors.
Lennon’s brother, my boss, and the only man who got under my skin in a way I couldn’t truly describe.
His gaze hardened into complete annoyance the second he saw me, but then his line of vision shifted behind me, his eyes getting a little wide as he quickly said, “Don’t let the door close!”
I moved in slow motion, twisting around in time for the door to click shut.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he muttered around an irritated sigh.
“Shit, I-I’m?—”
“What, sorry?” Weston shook his head. “That piece of wood was keeping the door open just fine. You walk by and suddenly the fucking thing vanishes?”
I was shell-shocked he was speaking to me when, half the time, he couldn’t be bothered to mutter more than a handful of sentences.
In the beginning—when I first started at Taylors Security—he would occasionally send me that smile of his when he’d walk by my desk, hand dipped into the pocket of those finely pressed slacks that did wonders for his ass and legs. I’d get that big grin, those perfect teeth, and that one dimple. And if it was a really special day, he’d stop at my desk for a minute to talk.
I was a lot of things, but I wasn’t stupid enough to miss how all that stopped right around the same time his brother asked me out. Despite it all, my brain still found him attractive—because it was a traitorous little thing.
I wanted to scoff because wasn’t that how it always went—women finding the broody, rude type attractive as hell. But then my mind bounced back to how he sneered and scowled at me with those gray-blue eyes of his whenever he had the chance.
Just like he was doing right then.
So, yeah, I was surprised he was talking to me at all.
But also, where did that door stopper go? How was it holding the door open one minute and was gone the next?
And then I remembered how in a rush I was to get inside the break room because of the thunder and lightning. Because as a kid, I was always scared of the way Mother Nature unleashed its wrath, and as an adult, it still made me nervous.
That familiar roll cracked outside, starting small then morphing into the sound of a whip to leather all too quickly. My head throbbed in response, reminding me that I needed to find the medicine cabinet. I prayed the next twenty minutes would pass quickly so I could get some relief.
Weston remained rooted to where he stood as the ground rumbled beneath our feet. It literally felt like it shook, and then, in the next second the overhead light flickered off. It wasn’t because one of our fingers flitted across the switch.
It was the weather, the impending storm outside cutting out the power as easy as a blow of a breath to a flame. It was there one second and then…gone.
I glanced over at the microwave to confirm it. The green numbers on the digital display were nowhere to be found.
Queasiness formed in my stomach. I couldn’t tell if it was from my headache or due to the man standing across from me.
Only time would tell.
2
OLIVIA
“Well, I think it’s safe to say that the power is officially out,” I murmured, though it almost sounded like I shouted it. The room was eerily quiet outside of the pouring rain pattering against the windows.
“Damn it, Olivia,” Weston muttered in that low and husky voice—the same one I always got when he decided to give me the time of day. A mix between a sigh and scoff followed.
He lifted his arm and brushed his hand over his forehead, like he was beyond done with me. I swear I heard him heave in another big breath, but I wasn’t 100 percent certain. Darkness blanketed the room, making it difficult to see more than a few feet in front of me.
