Page 15 of Mr. Almost

“Thank you,” I tell her before turning back to Eli. “Tell me, how does it feel?”

He frowns in confusion. “How does what feel?”

“To be so deluded to think that you’re a catch?”

He scoffs. “Please, we both know I am. My favorite meal is pussy. I fuck like I’m going for gold, and my bank account is overflowing. I’m the total package, and then some.”

A squeak has us turning to see a young, blushing server.

“H-hi, I’m Kylie, and I’ll be your waitress today. What can I get you two to drink?”

As soon as we place our drink orders, she runs away, and I mean runs.

I turn back to Eli and raise a brow. “Way to go, you traumatized the staff. We’re going to have to pay for years of therapy for her now.”

“Nah, she’ll be fine,” he says as he stares off at the doors she went through.

“No sleeping with the staff.”

He turns back to me with a raised brow. “Interesting you should mention that considering you’ve already done just that.”

I clear my throat. “We should get to work.”

Eli hums but lets it slide.

He’s not wrong, though. We do have a no-fraternization policy. Luckily for me, Olivia isn’t held to all our rules. I just have to convince her to date me before Max can buy out her work contract and hire her to work for us.

Easy.

I just have to remind her how good we can be together. Surely it can’t be that hard.

Chapter

Four

OLIVIA

Entering the break room,I press a hand to my stomach as it rumbles.

Nothing, and I mean nothing, is worse than period hunger. It doesn’t matter how much I eat, it feels like it’s never enough. To make matters worse, I feel like my cravings during this time of the month are worse than when I was pregnant with Ari.

I open the fridge, dreading the sandwich I packed this morning. It’s the last thing I want, but food is food.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” I groan, tilting my head back.

My sandwich is gone. Which honestly isn’t that surprising, considering it’s the third time this week my food has been replaced with something else.

Tears fill my eyes as I pinch the bridge of my nose.

I don’t understand why he’s doing this.

My stomach rumbles again, and as much as I would love to protest by not eating what he got me, I can’t. Not today, at least.Reluctantly, I grab the container with my name on it and find that it’s still mostly warm to the touch.

Shutting the fridge, I open the container and see that it’s pasta with capers and grilled chicken.

Goddammit.

My mind flashes back to earlier when I was talking to Tristen.

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