The Favor

I’d taken the chance. He hadn’t lied. A lot of pressure came with the job, and he could be a nightmare to handle sometimes—mostly because he had very strict standards for others and himself, and he had no tolerance for anyone who couldn’t keep up. He could also be inflexible and overly detail orientated. Any displays of laziness, inefficiency, or a bad work ethic from his employees were met with chillingly insensitive putdowns.

He also tended to forget that, unlike him, not everyone was married to their job. But in many other ways, he was a good boss. He paid well, looked after his employees, rewarded hard work, and didn’t tolerate any workplace bullshit.

Moreover, he’d once been my fucking hero—he’d stepped in when I thought everything would come crumbling down around me and he’d fixed the situation without batting an eyelid. For that alone, I’d always be loyal to him. Of course, he’d made it clear that he hadn’t done it to be “nice” and that he’d call in a favor one day but—

“Speak of the psychopath …”

At Hanna’s words, I snapped back to attention. My gaze flew to the elevator and, sure enough, Dane came walking out with that purposeful, sexy as hell, alpha-male stride. He looked so self-possessed and implacable it made my pulse skitter and my hormones sigh in appreciation.

The dark tailored suit looked damn good on him, but no suit could hide the menace that seemed to lurk just beneath the very controlled surface he showed to the world. That menace occasionally flared in his eyes or deepened his voice.

“We’ll talk later.” Hanna pushed away from my desk. “I want to hear how it went with the ex.” She hurried away, bidding Dane a good afternoon as she passed.

I was pretty sure he grunted by way of hello, but it was hard to tell from all the way over here. Taking in his default unimpressed expression, one might think he suffered from chronic indifference. It tended to make people nervous; they often seemed compelled to try to please or amuse him. The latter was truly a waste of time. In all the years I’d worked for him, I’d never heard him laugh. Not. Once.

I flashed him my receptionist smile as he neared me. “Afternoon, Dane.”

He flicked up his brows ever so slightly—his usual way of greeting me. Well, it was more than a lot of people got.

Grabbing some papers from my desk, I followed him into his sleek, spacious, masculine office. The glossy, cognac-brown wooden flooring perfectly matched the ergonomic desk, the full-wall shelves, and the coffee table in the seating area at the far side of the room. Two black leather sofas framed the table, and I could attest that both were delightfully comfortable.

Dane sometimes held one-on-one meetings in the seating area, but he mostly used conference rooms. I got the sense that he didn’t like having many people in his private sanctum. Not that anything in the room revealed much about him. There were no mementos, no knickknacks, no clutter. Even his kickass desk was surprisingly sparse. There was only his desktop computer, laptop, landline phone, nameplate, and a single coaster.

There were two things I envied about Dane’s office. One, the private bathroom. Two, the floor-to-ceiling windows that boasted an incredible, skyline view.

“Coffee?” I asked once he’d settled in his chair.

“No.”

In the beginning, I used to bristle at his curt manner. Now? I was used to it. I knew not to take his rudeness personally. Dane didn’t put much effort into sparing the feelings of anyone.

After relaying some important messages to him, I placed the papers on the desk in front of him. “You need to sign these.”

He only grunted.

I gave him a bright smile. “I like these little chats we have.”

He gave me one of those droll looks I’d become accustomed to over the years.

I headed to the door. Reaching it, I looked over my shoulder as I said ever so casually, “Oh, and Travis turned up to see you.”

Dane’s eyes narrowed as he studied me hard. “What did he do?”

I blinked. “Who says he did anything?”

“What did he do, Vienna?” Dane repeated. He very rarely raised that smooth, low-pitched, authoritative voice … as if never doubting that he had his conversationalist’s full attention. From what I’d observed, he was right not to have such doubts.

I really didn’t like tattling on people, but I figured Dane had a right to know that his brother might have been up to something. “Travis wanted to go into your office even though you weren’t here. I wouldn’t let him, so he kicked up a fuss. When it didn’t get him anywhere, he left. He also wants you to call him.”

“Define ‘fuss.’”

“He whined and yelled and growled and promised he’d have me fired.”

“Did he touch you?”

“No.” But he had threatened to. I decided not to mention that, though. It would only piss Dane off, and he was even more of a pain when he was in a mood.