name.
Shouldering her purse, she pushed through the office doors and made her way toward her cube, going through all the possible men she knew in Nashville. She ruled out Darren. Her man had no accent; but it could have been anyone in the office. Even...
“Elle!”
God, no, not him! Turning mid-stride, she put on her best smile and hoped she didn’t look too flushed. “Fred? Hi!”
“Elle, cancel all your appointments. You’re working exclusively with Maxwell. Whatever he needs, you help him with. This launch has to be perfect.”
Elle listened intently and tried to compare voices. She couldn’t be sure. “Damn.”
Fred raised an eyebrow, but stayed silent. If he’d just say another couple of words...”Isn’t that your project?”
“Yes, but I know you are looking to step up and this would be an excellent opportunity.”
Yeah, or he’d screwed up and wanted someone to place the blame on.
***
Spit bullets. That’s what Maxwell wanted to do. Darren, the bastard, couldn’t be found and the sound of Elle’s happy twittering one cube over was driving him insane.
She’d arrived at his cube first thing, flushed and looking good enough to kiss. Glorious curls bounced and her dimples flashed...just like he imagined she looked after a night of passion and hot sex in his bed.
Only problem was—she’d had it with Darren.
And Darren was hiding.
His phone beeped with a text from Luke. Fred again, that man was going to be the death of him. Throwing his pencil down, he strode from his dingy, pint-sized cube and headed to Fred’s office.
Luke waved him in.
“What’s going on Fred?”
Fred paced the room his hair disheveled and his face flushed. “You want us to change the specs. Balsam is cheap. You’re asking for plastic. At this rate, our product won’t be the quality I promised.”
Maxwell closed the door and stepped up to Fred’s desk, leaning on it with both arms. He allowed all the fury and frustration he’d dealt with since Darren left him last night high and dry to show on his face and in his voice. “Fred. It doesn’t matter to me what the board thinks, what my brother thinks, or how much freakin’ research you’ve done on these worm farms. You’ve already spent over $500,000 on something that I think is complete crap. We will get this project in under budget and the damn things are not going to crack open and spill ants and worms all over our customer’s homes.”
Fred opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water. After several tries, he began to tear up. “Maxwell. This will work. I promise you. Just give me a chance.”
Maxwell couldn’t believe it. Tears. He had to get away from this man. “You know, Fred, this would have been easier if you’d brought others into the project before spending the money and screwing up.”
The phone rang, interrupting his tirade.
Fred looked nervously between it and Maxwell. Fed up with all of it, Maxwell stormed out of the office and planted himself firmly back in his cube. On his way, he’d caught a glimpse of Darren exiting Elle’s cube before the man disappeared to god knows where. They needed to talk. The man was spending more time with Elle than he was. And what had happened last night? They had a deal—Elle was supposed to be brought up to the Salon. Elle had been primed. Maxwell had made sure of that. It had cost him to walk away from her in the hall but he’d done it. All Darren had to do was get her to The Den and up to the Salon. Together they would take it from there.
But no, nothing was turning out as he’d planned it. Few things in life ever had.
Swearing under his breath, Maxwell twisted the class ring around his finger and threw his pencil down. Z Toyz had been his and his brothers’ creation, and no matter what demons had led him to this life, he wanted more, this time for himself.
Five minutes with Elle wouldn’t kill him.
Chapter Eleven
This promotion was going to be the death of
Shouldering her purse, she pushed through the office doors and made her way toward her cube, going through all the possible men she knew in Nashville. She ruled out Darren. Her man had no accent; but it could have been anyone in the office. Even...
“Elle!”
God, no, not him! Turning mid-stride, she put on her best smile and hoped she didn’t look too flushed. “Fred? Hi!”
“Elle, cancel all your appointments. You’re working exclusively with Maxwell. Whatever he needs, you help him with. This launch has to be perfect.”
Elle listened intently and tried to compare voices. She couldn’t be sure. “Damn.”
Fred raised an eyebrow, but stayed silent. If he’d just say another couple of words...”Isn’t that your project?”
“Yes, but I know you are looking to step up and this would be an excellent opportunity.”
Yeah, or he’d screwed up and wanted someone to place the blame on.
***
Spit bullets. That’s what Maxwell wanted to do. Darren, the bastard, couldn’t be found and the sound of Elle’s happy twittering one cube over was driving him insane.
She’d arrived at his cube first thing, flushed and looking good enough to kiss. Glorious curls bounced and her dimples flashed...just like he imagined she looked after a night of passion and hot sex in his bed.
Only problem was—she’d had it with Darren.
And Darren was hiding.
His phone beeped with a text from Luke. Fred again, that man was going to be the death of him. Throwing his pencil down, he strode from his dingy, pint-sized cube and headed to Fred’s office.
Luke waved him in.
“What’s going on Fred?”
Fred paced the room his hair disheveled and his face flushed. “You want us to change the specs. Balsam is cheap. You’re asking for plastic. At this rate, our product won’t be the quality I promised.”
Maxwell closed the door and stepped up to Fred’s desk, leaning on it with both arms. He allowed all the fury and frustration he’d dealt with since Darren left him last night high and dry to show on his face and in his voice. “Fred. It doesn’t matter to me what the board thinks, what my brother thinks, or how much freakin’ research you’ve done on these worm farms. You’ve already spent over $500,000 on something that I think is complete crap. We will get this project in under budget and the damn things are not going to crack open and spill ants and worms all over our customer’s homes.”
Fred opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water. After several tries, he began to tear up. “Maxwell. This will work. I promise you. Just give me a chance.”
Maxwell couldn’t believe it. Tears. He had to get away from this man. “You know, Fred, this would have been easier if you’d brought others into the project before spending the money and screwing up.”
The phone rang, interrupting his tirade.
Fred looked nervously between it and Maxwell. Fed up with all of it, Maxwell stormed out of the office and planted himself firmly back in his cube. On his way, he’d caught a glimpse of Darren exiting Elle’s cube before the man disappeared to god knows where. They needed to talk. The man was spending more time with Elle than he was. And what had happened last night? They had a deal—Elle was supposed to be brought up to the Salon. Elle had been primed. Maxwell had made sure of that. It had cost him to walk away from her in the hall but he’d done it. All Darren had to do was get her to The Den and up to the Salon. Together they would take it from there.
But no, nothing was turning out as he’d planned it. Few things in life ever had.
Swearing under his breath, Maxwell twisted the class ring around his finger and threw his pencil down. Z Toyz had been his and his brothers’ creation, and no matter what demons had led him to this life, he wanted more, this time for himself.
Five minutes with Elle wouldn’t kill him.
Chapter Eleven
This promotion was going to be the death of
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