Stolen Love (Beauty in the Stolen 3)

“No more comments,” I say, making my way inside the building.

The doors close behind me, cutting out the noise. It’s like entering a different world of silence. Thank fuck.

“Good morning, sir,” my secretary says, standing ready with a warm mug of coffee on the other side of the scanners to replace the lukewarm one in my hand.

She’s jumpy, and she’s got reason to be. My secretaries don’t last very long. No one seems to survive my prickly temper and perfectionism.

When I pass through the scanners, she takes the paper cup and hands me the mug. “You have a nine o’clock with the Department of Mineral Resources and Energy.” She dumps the paper cup in a trashcan, coffee and all.

I bite my tongue not to criticize the act. The coffee should go down the drain, then the cup goes in the recycle bin. There’s a right order of doing things.

Running alongside me, she rambles on about my appointments for the morning. I tune out her voice. Everything is noted on my calendar.

Unable to bear her waste of voice any longer, I interrupt her when we stop in front of the elevator. “Mavis.”

She swallows. “Yes, sir?”

“I don’t need a verbal reminder of my appointments. I made them. I know who I’m meeting.”

“Yes, sir.”

The door opens. I let her step inside first.

When it closes, she clutches her hands in front of her, staring at the top of the door as if a number will light up there.

Sighing, I make a conscious effort to be more approachable. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Top floor,” I say.

The elevator jolts, causing the hot coffee to spill over my hand.

“Motherfucker,” I mumble, shaking drops from the sleeve of my jacket. The white cuff of my shirt is stained brown. For God’s sake. I’ll have to change before my meeting.

Hold on. Are we going fucking down?

“Up,” I grit out.

The elevator continues to descend. It jostles on the first underground parking level. Mavis loses her balance and trots sideways with a yelp. More coffee sloshes over the rim of the mug, the hot liquid burning my wrist.

“For the love of—” I swallow my curse as another bump shakes us.

Mavis screams. Fuck, that hurts my eardrum. I grab her elbow and steady her before she trots to the other side of the elevator.

My irritation boils over. It’s like being in a fucking boat on a rough sea.

“Tech room,” I say. They better sort out this shit pronto.

The communication system doesn’t react to my voice command. Cursing up a storm, I shove the mug into Mavis’s hand and pull my phone from my pocket. Of course, there’s no cell phone reception in the elevator.

“Lovely,” I growl.

We hit the second underground parking level with a bump that makes even me take a sideway step.

We wait. Nothing. The elevator jolts again and ascends with a speed that makes my stomach climb into my throat.

Mavis drops the mug and grabs the rail. Coffee spills over the tiles, splashing on my shoes. The ear of the mug breaks off. The maimed mug rolls over the floor and comes to a stop against the wall.

“Son of a—”

The elevator runs through the floors like a rocket and stops at the top. I only know where we are because the floor numbers light up on my phone. It’s an added security measure I thought clever at the time. Now I feel like having the head of my technician on a platter.

“Open,” I say.

A sultry, female voice answers. “Ask nicely.”

Mavis almost swallows her false teeth.

“What the fuck?”

“Ask nicely,” the voice repeats.

You’ve got to be kidding me. Forget the technician. When I get my hands on Leon—that little twat. I can’t think of a harsh enough retribution.

“Please,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Please, Candy,” the woman says.

Mavis looks at the ceiling with a frantic expression.

“Please fucking Candy,” I repeat.

“Just please Candy will do.”

“Open the doors or you’ll fucking regret it.”

“That’s no way to say good morning,” Candy says. “Didn’t you enjoy the ride? I thought you’d say thank you for the little adventure.”

“If you don’t let me out—”

“Tsk, tsk, no threats, Mr. Hart. You’ll hurt my feelings.”

Lips curling, I say. “Fine, Candy. Thank you for the ride. Please let me out.”

“That’s better,” she says.

The door opens. Mavis charges out of the elevator like her jacket is on fire. She only manages to compose herself once we’re in the lobby.

“Shall I call IT, sir?”

“No,” I say, stalking to my office. “I’ll handle this. And drop the sir.”

“Yes, Mr. Hart.”

Turning my eyes toward heaven in a plea for mercy, I slam a palm on the door and barge into my office while dialing Leon on voice command.

“Brother?” he answers with a drawl.

“Fix my fucking elevator.”

“Admit it.” He laughs. “I won.”

I dump my satchel next to my chair. “You won.”

“See? It wasn’t that difficult to hijack your elevator. I even managed to do it remotely.”