Braxton
I enter the high-rise and walk over to the reception area. I’m so hungover, I can barely keep my eyes open. A woman with a headpiece immediately removes it and stands when she sees me, a Cheshire grin on her rather pretty face.
“Can I be of assistance, Sir?” she asks, twisting an auburn curl between her fingers.
“Yeah, I’m here to see Mr. Hernandez, I’m Braxton Hayes,” I say, buttoning my jacket.
She looks at her screen then back up at me. “You can go ahead, Mr. Hayes. Mr. Hernandez is expecting you. Take the elevator to the forty ninth floor.” Her eyes roam over me.
“Thanks, Tonya,” I say, making it obvious that I’m reading her nametag which has her giggling. At the bank of elevators, I press the call button and step aside.
“Is he in, Tonya?” an irritated woman asks. I don’t hear the receptionist respond, but I couldn’t ignore the irritated woman if I tried. “I don’t give a shit if he has an appointment with the President, I’m going up.”
A flush faced young woman comes into view, walking briskly my way. A very beautiful young woman, actually. I can’t help but notice as her angry features only adds to her appeal. Brown hair frames her face as she pushes past me, barely glancing my way before she starts to slam repeatedly on the elevator button. The skinny jeans she wears do everything for her ass.
“That’s not gonna bring it down any quicker.”
“Excuse me?” Her head whips toward me, hazel eyes blazing.
“The elevator, pressing the button’s just pissing you off more,” I point to where her pointer finger is still pressed firmly to the button.
“And who asked you, smart ass?” She scoffs, her brows knitted between her eyes.
I shrug, and surprisingly, she relents then steps back. She turns and heads for the emergency exit a few feet from where we stand. Hopefully she doesn’t have too many stairs to climb. Just as she swings open the door, the elevator arrives.
I hold the door open and wait for her to turn around and step in. “Forty-nine,” we say together.
I lift a brow. “You were going to walk forty-nine floors?”
She narrows her eyes at me, and I raise my hands in surrender. She folds her arms, and her feet tap impatiently as we make our way up.
“I’m, Brax,” I say. She must work for Hernandez. A disgruntled employee, maybe.
“And I, am not interested,” she sneers up at me.
The elevator pings, and the door opens. When I hold the door open for her, she rolls her eyes at me then walks past me down the hall. “Eliana! He has an appointment,” the receptionist shouts after her as I approach the desk. Shaking her head apologetically the receptionist says, “Mr. Hayes, great to meet you. Would you give me a few minutes? You can take a seat over there” She points to a seating area, then rushes down the hallway after the angry woman.
“Sure,” I frown and make my way to an armchair.
The receptionist returns a few minutes later, her face flushed. “Mr. Hernandez will see you now. You can follow me, Sir.”
I follow behind the middle-aged blonde in a cream pantsuit. The sound of raised voices grows louder the closer we get to the end of the corridor. She smiles back at me awkwardly, then opens the double doors.
Diego Hernandez sits at his desk, hosting a screaming match with the woman I now know is Eliana.”
“Ah, Mr. Hayes, come in,” the older man greets, his growls ceasing when he spots me.
Eliana turns on her heel, throwing daggers at me. “You?” she hisses.
“Me?” I give her a questioning look.
“Is this him, the bodyguard you want following me around in LA? It’s two hours away, I don’t need a detail there. This is bullshit, Dad. Bullshit,” she yells.
“I beg to differ. We can’t afford a repeat of what happened the other night.”
Her jaw clenches, and she takes a deep breath before storming out of the office before her father or I can say anything.
The receptionist looks out of her depth and closes the door behind her when Mr. Hernandez waves her off.
