Page 34 of Brassy Bigwig

“You have until Monday to decide. I’ll see you then.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, and I wait for her to respond with a snide remark that I know will make my dick hard. Surprisingly, she only responds with a fake smile before strolling across the lobby to the elevator. Once the doors close, I pull out my cell phone and call downstairs to Ivan, my driver.

“Yes, sir,” he answers.

“A girl in a cream-colored skirt and black button up blouse will be exiting the building any minute.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Follow her, but don’t get out of the car.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ivan is very tall and very noticeable. I don’t need Chloe catching on to someone tailing her. He’s not a man of many words, but he does as he’s asked, and he’s loyal as fuck. He follows me wherever I go. I believed Chloe when she said she wasn’t out to get me, but I’d like to keep tabs on her while she’s deciding what she wants to do. I was serious when I said I wasn’t going to let her get away twice.

I want Chloe, and I won’t take no for an answer.

* * *

It wasn’t long before I got my first report from Ivan. Chloe had hailed a cab, which dropped her off at her apartment. I told him to wait nearby and see if she leaves to go anywhere. That was almost seven hours ago. Since then, they’ve left the condo and gone for dinner somewhere on Columbus Avenue, which is where they’ve been for the past hour and a half. I wanted to join him in the stakeout, but I decided to wait it out at my penthouse in the Financial District instead. I still have a lot of unpacking to do, and it will help keep my mind off of what she may be doing or thinking.

The walk from the office to my building was nice. I forgot how much I like the city. It’s no Hermosa Beach, but Hermosa Beach doesn’t have Chloe.

Neither do you.

Was I completely crazy to make the move out here not knowing if things were going to work out?

No. I don’t want to second guess my decision. I’ve rarely done it in the past, and my intuition has a fairly good track record.

Except with women.

I finish hanging the shirt I’m holding and head to the study for a glass of whiskey. A tall glass of whiskey. I take a sizeable swig as I pull my phone from my pocket and check Ivan’s location.

Again.

This time, my limo is still on Columbus, but he’s no longer parked.

Where is she headed?

Ivan knows to call me when they get wherever it is they’re going. So I’ll wait as patiently as I can until I hear from him.

I take my drink back into my room and continue emptying my suitcases. The penthouse came fully furnished, but I hired a staging company to bring in some additional pieces that were more my taste. My Hermosa house is all light wood with teal and navy accents, courtesy of Emilia. I wanted my penthouse to have an entirely different feel, so I ordered several pieces of furniture in black or gray leather.

There is something I find soothing about hanging and folding my clothes and putting everything away just right. Call it OCD or whatever you want to call it. But that, and this whiskey, are the only two things keeping me from going after Chloe and forcing her to make a decision right now.

Best case scenario, she shows up for work on Monday and tells me she’s forgiven me and is ready to move forward. That she wants to get to know me better and would like the chance to do so by working for me. Once we know if we’re ready for a relationship, she can find a new job somewhere. Hell, I’ll even help her. I’m sure Dex would hire her in a heartbeat.

Worst case scenario, she doesn’t show up. Doesn’t call. Doesn’t write. Strips every memory of me from her mind and moves on. A new job. A new man. A new life that doesn’t include me in it.

That’s not going to work for me.

I check my watch and wonder if they’re headed home from dinner. It’s ten o’clock. Apparently, that’s dinner hour in New York City time. As if he knew I was thinking about them, I get a call from Ivan right then.

“Yeah?”

“They were just dropped off at the SMR nightclub.”

Fuck.

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