“Are you scared I’ll make a run for the door if you let me go?” I tease, watching him try to pull his phone and his keys out with one hand while keeping the clipboard tucked under his elbow.
He laughs warmly.
“Maybe I am. Why risk it?” he muses.
I take the clipboard and hold it for him, and he keeps grinning.
Once he has his pockets sorted, he takes the clipboard from me again. “I need to get this shipment schedule to the floor manager, then we can go to breakfast,” he confirms.
“At this rate, it’ll be lunch,” I tease.
My heart is so happy I can’t stop making jokes and playing around with him.
It didn’t take me long once I realized that I am in love with him to make my choice. The decision was easy. I accept him for who he is; overprotectiveness, his background, his work, his bad side, and his good side—or I don’t get any of him.
And not getting any of him wasn’t an option at all.
The relief of having him back with me is intense after the past week of heavy depression.
“And afterbreakfastwe can go home and make space in your new cupboards,” he says, ignoring my poke at how long he’s taking.
“Maybe we could do a few other things before we tackle the closets?” I say mischievously.
“Maybe we should skip breakfast and go straight home,” he says in a husky tone.
“Is that the shipment schedule?” a man asks as he walks toward us. Adrian looks up at him, nodding. “Yes, it’s for the next week. I’ve signed it off. I need daily reports sent after each stage of packing and moving of the goods.”
“Yes, boss. Same drill as before,” he nods, taking the paperwork and glancing over it.
We’re about to finish up and leave when Antonio comes charging through the warehouse at full speed, “Adrian!” he shouts from the other side.
Adrian stops, his body tensing.
He waits for Antonio to reach us, but his arm has tightened around me.
“What?” he snaps, agitated, not at Antonio, but at the suspense of whatever he is going to say.
“We just got a heads-up,” he says, out of breath. “There’s an attack team on the way here. Rivals.” He pauses, taking a deep breath and swallowing hard.
“Here? Now?” Adrian demands, glancing at me with his eyes darkening. “How long have we got? I need to get her out of here,” he says.
“I don’t know. You need to move now,” Antonio snaps.
But even as he speaks, we hear the cars arriving. Tires skid against gravel. Outside, a chorus of shouts rises as men spill from those cars.
Adrian grabs me even closer, pushing me behind him as he turns toward the doors.
Antonio is shouting orders into the warehouse, and men in security gear are running out, carrying heavy assault rifles.
“Get her out of here!” Antonio shouts at Adrian.
Adrian shakes his head, pulling a gun from beneath his jacket. “There’s no time,” he snarls.
As he speaks, men flow into the entrance in perfect military formation. They fan out, crouching low, every single one of them aiming a weapon at Adrian, Antonio, and me.
Behind us, Adrian’s men are standing in a similar formation.
And the air in the warehouse has been charged with tension.
