Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 110360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
“Well,” I drawled. “Technically, I’m not expecting anything. That would be against office policy. The last thing I need is Sarah riding my ass for not reading her last HR memo,” I winked and nodded to the mug. “Like I said, this is just a simple request for a donation.”
He scoffed. “Simple request my ass.”
“Hey Devon,” Lark called as he sauntered over, a half-eaten cheese Danish cradled in hand. “You still collecting money for Leo?”
“Yep.”
He dug in his back pocket, pulled out a folded bill, and shoved it into the offering cup. “Fifty good?”
“Absolutely.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Apollo’s jaw drop. “Only fifty?”
Jesus, children can be so dramatic.
Lark’s forehead wrinkled as his gaze snapped to mine. “What does he mean, only fifty? I was trying to be generous. Alex said you were looking for twenty-five?”
Fighting back a grin, I patted Lark on the side. “Nah, buddy. Fifty’s more than generous. Much appreciated.” Basking in the fury on Apollo’s face, I swung a finger down to the other end of the conference table. “Last I checked, that box of donuts had a few left.”
Lark’s eyes lit. “Any chocolate?”
In his forties, Jeremy Lark did not fuck around when it came to keeping in shape. This meant he joined me in the gym every morning before coming to work, then plowed through enough sweets to land himself in a sugar coma. Priorities and all.
I had not the first clue what was in that box, as my pastry drug of choice was blueberry fritters, but it sounded like chocolate was my best bet to get his feet moving.
I arched an eyebrow. “Are there any other kind?”
“Nice,” he whispered, hurrying away.
Turning my attention back to Apollo, I shook the cup. “So, as I was saying.”
“Oh, fuck off.” He shot to his feet. “You got all the money I’m pissing away today. You think Leo gave a shit when it was my birthday and he had a man posted in my apartment so I couldn’t even leave to pick up dinner?”
“Trust me, none of us enjoyed that either. Your place smells like shit. You know what, maybe you should keep that extra eighty bucks and hire someone to come clean. Does your sister know you’re still living like a frat boy?”
He flicked me off. “Nah. But your mom didn’t seem to mind.”
I barked a laugh. A man was not raised by a woman who looked like Leslie Grant without hearing every MILF joke under the sun. I’d learned way back in middle school, when every boy would froth at the mouth in the car pickup line, that it was easier to roll with the punches than spend the rest of my life in jail for dishing them out. “Ah.” I rubbed my freshly shaven chin. “Have you followed up with that Doctor yet? Last I talked to Mom, she said your balls really should have dropped by now.”
He shot me an icy glare, which made my whole damn morning. “Don’t you have something better to do?”
I shrugged. “Not particularly.”
As a single guy who worked too hard, too much, I didn’t have a whole lot going on in my life. The majority of this shake-down was for pure entertainment. Fucking with Apollo was one of my favorite pastimes, right up there with college football and the bullshit on my neighborhood’s Facebook page.
The loud slide of a wolf whistle drew my attention to the hallway across the room. “Grant,” Aiden Johnson snapped like a whip, his densely tattooed arms crossed over his barrel chest. At six-four, two-hundred and fifty pounds, I was a big guy. Johnson was a beast though, in both size and attitude.
“What’s up?” I replied.
“Boss wants to see you.” He flicked his malevolent gaze at Apollo. “You too.”
Apollo’s eyes flashed wide. “Great. What the fuck did I do?”
Johnson arched a dark brow. “You want me to make a list? You know exactly where I’m gonna start, and I assure you it will not end with that bullshit you pulled behind McMurphy’s.”
On a normal day, I never would have questioned a comment like that. Prince Silver Spoon in his Ass was always up to some shit. Though I had to admit, the smug twitch of Apollo’s lips piqued my curiosity.
“Absolutely,” the kid quipped. “I’d love to see how you explain that one on paper.”
I patted him on the shoulder. “Well, it was nice knowing you. Good luck in the afterlife.” However, in a shocking turn of events, Johnson did not immediately decapitate Apollo.
“Office,” Johnson clipped. “Now.”
Apollo’s grin stretched, and given the murder in Johnson’s eyes, it was seriously fucking ballsy. Though he did it while still maintaining a pulse, so maybe he wasn’t as big of a dumbass as I’d thought.
Johnson turned on a toe and marched away, the muscles on his back visibly tense through his black t-shirt.