No matter what I said to him, we weren’t going to get anywhere. It’s how it was every other time I tried talking to the man—I’d apply effort, and he’d shit on it.
I turned back around to face the door, ready to get the hell out of here and head to Lennon’s so I could get a decent night of sleep, but when I twisted the door handle to get out, nothing happened. I tried again, turning it before the little shimmy that remained stopped completely. The damn thing jammed even more, its mechanism locking in place with no plans of moving any time soon.
The clink of a glass being placed on a counter sounded and footsteps tapped across to where the windows were. The scrape of a chair skidded across the tiles.
“It’s not going to work. That handle has been giving us issues for weeks now. If it’s jammed, which it is, we’re shit out of luck until someone finds us in here. Besides, it’s only fixable from the outside.”
My forehead fell to the door. It wasn’t exactly the greatest move on my part considering my headache was still going strong. I needed to take something for it. That was the whole reason I came in here in the first place, and yet, I couldn’t get my feet to move in the direction of the cabinet where I knew the medicine was located.
This was really happening, wasn’t it?
I was trapped in this godforsaken room with theonlyperson in the world that probably truly despised me. I was a good person and didn’t deserve this. I was kind and thoughtful. I held doors open for the elderly if I was heading into the store and they were right behind me. I volunteered when I had the extra time in my schedule. I called my parents two times a week to check in with them and to see how they were doing. I paid my bills on time—including my credit card—and I never, ever screwed the company clock.
I ran through other ways to escape, but there was only one way in and out—through this damn door. The windows were an option, but they were like the ones installed in school buildings where they opened outward rather than up.
I sure as hell wasn’t going to be caught climbing out of one wearing a dress while a storm raged on the other side of it. And definitely not with Weston sitting feet away with a look on his face that told me what he thought of me.
“There’s absolutely no way?” I asked, just to be certain. I mean, there had to be a way to unjam it from the inside.
“If there is, it wouldn’t matter. We don’t have the necessary tools.”
I rolled my lip into my mouth, bit down on it, and spun, putting my hands on my hips. I glanced over at the windows that were behind where he sat. The rain pelted the building, falling on a slant.
Lightning came.
Thunder followed.
“Does the building have a generator?”
“No. Not one that currently works.”
I scoffed. “You run a security company, and you don’t even have a generator for the building you work in?”
“We did have one, but it took its last breath a month ago. Lennon was working with the company to get an estimate onwhat it would cost to replace it. No one expected a storm to come through in between it being replaced, Olivia.”
I tried not to panic, because technically, that made sense. Thiswasan older building that they bought and renovated, so it was likely that the generator needed replacing long before it stopped working. I couldn’t believe that not only were we waiting on someone to fix the door handle but the generator was also waiting on an upgrade. It was the perfect storm of issues.
“That’s just…great,” I muttered before saying under my breath, “Who would have thought it’d take so long to get a damn generator or door handle repaired?”
Weston’s voice was unforgiving when he said, “Everything in business takes time. We don’t get to snap our fingers and, voilà, everything is dealt with.”
I huffed out a dry laugh. “Right. Of course.” I slid down the door, choosing to sit as far away from him and his insulting words.
“Unfortunately, money only gets you so far, then you have to rely on other factors, like the availability and time people have on their schedules.”
“Thank you for letting me know that we don’t live in a world that is instantaneous with our needs and wants. I definitely had no idea that there were other factors that could affect the turnout of something like that.” I didn’t stop there. Something inside me made me rattle on, digging the stake farther into the dirt as I gave Weston all my attitude—attitude, that honestly, I should have been giving Lennon. “It’s a good thing you’re around, because I’d worry about its success without someone as smart as you running the show and reminding everyone just how dumb they are.”
“This is why I’m better locked away in my office. I can’t fucking deal with people.” He said the last sentence quieterand in a way that made me think it wasn’t entirely meant for me.
He sat behind a computer most of the day, making sure all code was up to date and that their security software was strong enough that the best hacker in the world couldn’t breach it. In the moments he ventured into the rest of the building, people kept a wide berth, knowing he wasn’t the Taylors man that would send a smile their way. That was Lennon, which was why he handled most of the installations. He liked interacting with people, employees and customers alike. He was just…good at it. Weston, eh, not so much.
Weston’s words put a bad taste in my mouth. “What’s the point of putting yourself down?”
“I’m not putting anything down,” Weston said in a tone that left no room for questions. “I’m simply stating facts. Are those things that you can’t bear to hear? Did my brother spoil you by telling you what you want to hear rather than what the actual truth is? If so, then it’s a sad, sad day for you Miss Hudson.”
His audacity—and the way he reverted to using my last name—brought something to life inside of me. He only called me that on the rare occasion I ran into him during work hours. Any other time—like when I spent afternoons with his family because I dated his brother—it was simply Olivia.
My heart almost took it as an attack, especially since it was only the two of us. He always found ways to inadvertently belittle people. To ridicule someone without actually doing so. To send an insult someone’s way without spelling it out.
