Conceal

There’s only one spot probably more perfect, but that’s behind a locked door and blocks away.

If I have to work on something private, that’s where I do it. Work I can’t have traced back to me. This place is home. Heading down the elevator, I make it into my gym and jump on the treadmill.

An hour later, I’m in the shower. The hot water relaxes my tight muscles as I think about all the work I need to do today. It’s not long before I’m driving uptown to Price Enterprise.

Traffic isn’t bad as it’s early. Hell, the sky is pitch-black, and headlights and buildings are what illuminate the sky. There are no stars in the city. But it doesn’t matter when this is your playground.

Unfortunately, other than the poker game, which was, in fact, not in the city, I haven’t been able to appreciate much. When I make it to the building, I park and head to the elevator that leads to my floor. I assume I’m the only one here, and I am. Most of the employees aren’t here until eight a.m. at the earliest, but I’m not an idiot. At seven a.m. on the dot, Grayson will call to check-in.

Not trusting me. It’s getting old. He’s been doing this for weeks. And right on the dot, the phone rings.

“Morning, Grayson,” I groan through the phone line.

“Jaxson.” His voice is short as always.

How does River put up with his attitude?

“And what can I do for you this fine morning? Is there a reason for your call? Or are you trying to drive me insane? Because if that’s your intention, you’re about to win a medal.”

“Can’t I just be calling to say—”

“Nope.”

He lets out a chuckle, a sound I’m still not used to. But ever since he got together with River, he’s been doing it more and more often.

“Fine, you got me. I was checking in.”

“No shit,” I jest. Does he think I’m stupid? Obviously, he’s checking in. He never called me before I was in charge. Now I’m gifted with one call a day. Do the math.

“But can you really blame me?”

“I couldn’t blame you the first time, but like, dude, this is getting ridiculous. We’re going on like twenty calls. Yes. I’m here. Surprise, surprise. I’m working.”

“Very well.”

“Other than that, is there anything you want?” Say, my soul, or maybe my resignation . . .

“Umm. No.”

I tap my fingers on my desk and wait for him to say more, and when he doesn’t, I do.

“Well, I have nothing to tell you either, so I guess we’re good to go.”

Grayson is silent for a minute, and then he sighs. “Talk to you later.”

“You mean tomorrow,” I deadpan.

“Yep.”

“Fine. Gray, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Tell River I said hi.”

“Will do.”

I hang up the phone and open my computer to look over correspondence.

A few hours later, I hear the clicking before I see Nicole, walking into my office. I’ve never had an assistant before. Usually because I worked from home. Also, I’m private as fuck. I know everything about everyone, but that comes with some problems. It means I can’t let very many people have access to my shit.

There is an abundance of skeletons in the closet, especially the closets I have hacked over the years.

“Hey, Nic,” I say. “Don’t you look lovely today.” She is significantly older than I am, but she still blushes at my greeting.

“Stop flattering me, Mr. Price.” She laughs.

“Jax.”

“Mr. Price.” She looks like a mother scolding her children.

“Mr. Price isn’t here right now. Just me.” I smile back at her, and she shakes her head at me.

“And you’re doing a fine job.” Her compliment makes me smile. At least someone thinks so.

“What can I do for you?” I ask.

“You have mail.”

Inclining my head, I raise my eyebrow, “Don’t I always? Or better yet, don’t my siblings?”

“That they do, but this time, so do you.”

“I do?” Most people wouldn’t find that odd, but I’m not most. I’m fully digital. No snail mail for me . . . ever. Except for today, obviously. I take the pile from her hand and leaf through anything not addressed to me until I find the envelope with my name on it. Ripping it open, I see a folded-up paper. Unfolding it, I look to see what it says.

Nothing.

I can’t help the laughter that bursts through my lips because tucked inside the envelope is a folded up fifty-dollar bill. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist for me to figure out who sent it. With a smile lining my face, I look on both sides of the paper and then the envelope. Other than my name, there is nothing there. Nothing to tell me who she is. Or even her name. Well played, mystery woman.

Well played.

I always like a challenge.

* * *

After work today, I headed out but decided not to go home. Instead, I’m at my favorite place on earth.