Page 10 of Mr. Perfect

But I slow down as the friction between my skin and the slide starts to hinder my escape. The incline isn’t as steep now either. So there’s no chance of building momentum. I must be near the ground floor.

A few seconds later I come out of another turn and I’m slowing down so fast, I have to start scooting forward.

Shit. Why me? Why couldn’t this happen on Pencil Skirt Monday? A pencil skirt would not ride up.

Pretty soon there it’s obvious that there is no hope of sliding down the rest of the way, so I take off my shoes and throw them down the slide ahead of me, then contort my body and wiggle around until I’m face first on my hands and knees.

And I crawl.

I crawl forward, fling my shoes, then crawl some more. I calculate how long I’ve been in the slide and come up with no more than a minute. I’m gonna make it. I crawl faster, throwing my shoes through the last turn. They go tumbling out of sight as I pick up my pace. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. Literally. I am seconds away from freedom when a pair of legs come into view.

No. Please.

I stop crawling so fast and make my way towards the end of the slide where the top cuts away and yes.

There he is. Waiting for me. My Jimmy Choos directly in front of him. My pretty pink clutch, tablet, and phone in one hand as he extends the other out towards me.

“Are you quite finished now, Miss Hatcher?” he says, a scowl on his face.

I take a deep, deep breath as I finish my crawl and accept his hand to help me out, because my other choice will probably land me on my face, ass in the air. And my skirt is still very much bunched up near my hips.

His hand grips mine, sending a shock of fear through my body, and steadies me as I get to my feet. He waits in silence as I adjust my skirt and slip my shoes on my feet so he’s not towering over me. Not as much anyway.

“Thank you, Mr. Stonewall,” I say, grabbing my clutch and devices from his hand. “Thank you,” I repeat, because I have no other words. “Now goodbye.”

“No,” he says, both of his arms corralling my upper body to prevent my second attempt at escaping. “This is completely ridiculous behavior, Miss Hatcher. My office now.”

It’s not a question, it’s a command. And that just pisses me off. “What part of I quit don’t you understand? I’m not going to your office, I’m going home. Now get your hands off me and get out of my way.”

I shove him aside, take a deep breath, not looking at any of the hundreds of employees who have now gathered to watch what’s happening, and walk off towards the escalator that leads down to the train station.

I look down as I approach the escalator, hoping against hope that it will be empty, but there’s at least a dozen people looking up at me.

Shit.

I veer off towards the stairs that will take me down to the transport garage. I will just hijack a golf cart and drive myself back to the hangar. I have full access to the keys thanks to Brutus.

I grab the handle, swing the door open, and leave that bastard of a boss behind.

Chapter Five - Mac

I stand there dumbfounded as Ellie Hatcher walks off and disappears through the door that leads down to the garage.

Everyone is looking at me and even though it should be impossible for an office building that hosts more than seven hundred employees to be silent, it feels very, very silent. “Get back to work,” I say loudly. Everyone turns away and pretends to be busy.

I stride towards the door, swing it open, and follow Ellie Hatcher into the dim stairwell.

“Oh, shit,” she says down below. “Go away!”

She’s crying. I can tell from the hitch in her voice. “Miss Hatcher,” I say as I step down and she comes into view. Her face and eyes are red and she has the biggest frown on her face. Humiliated. She looks humiliated.

Well, that inner voice of mine says. She asked for it.

She did. This is not my fault. How is this my fault? I’m not the one who’s been texting dirty offers of sex and sending weird Pinterest boards filled with the delusional life she most certainly does not have with Heath. She admitted in that exchange upstairs that she figured Heath wasn’t getting her texts. And he wasn’t. He’s in China where the company phones do not work. I turned the phone off just before Senior sent him off and landed me here, running the whole company.

“Miss Hatcher,” I repeat. “Will you please calm down. I’m not the enemy and this is not my fault. No one asked you to quit. And no one cares that you made a fool of yourself—”

“Fuck you!” she yells. “Just fuck you! You were reading my private messages to your brother, Mr. Stonewall.”