Relentless (Mason Family 4)

The elevator dings, and I step inside. My black heels hit a staccato against the floor. I press the button for the fourth floor.

I grip the thin strap of my purse at my shoulder and look up to see Genevieve’s smiling face. She offers me a little wave; my hand does a version of a wave back. I try hard—really hard—not to absorb the excitement rolling off her in waves.

Breathe in, breathe out.

The doors roll to a close, and the elevator begins its ascent.

I watch the numbers light up. There’s a slight pause on the third floor, but a man in a suit jacket tells me he wants to go down, not up, and apologizes for the slight inconvenience it causes me. I tell him it’s fine and clutch my purse tighter.

My brain races faster than the elevator and, by the time I reach the fourth floor, I simultaneously decide that this is both the worst and best thing I’ve ever done.

What was I thinking? Surely, there must’ve been an easier way to climb out of the hole I’m in. Working closely for the one man who I’ve felt an attraction to in years? I thought that was a good idea?

I force a swallow down my throat and try to temper the thundering of my heart.

Ding! The door opens and a woman with long red hair greets me with a smile.

I step out of the elevator and onto the shiny floor. The room is airy and smells faintly of lavender. Under normal circumstances, the scent of lavender helps me calm down.

Today is not a typical day.

A long black desk made of some kind of stone faces me. There are two closed doors behind the desk, one near each corner of the room. Two more doors—one on each side wall—are open with the lights off. There are two more on either side of the elevators.

I glance swiftly around the room as if Oliver might suddenly appear out of thin air. I can’t decide if I’m excited to see him or if I’m dreading the moment. It’s a wild mixture of apprehension and unreadiness that makes me a little unsteady on my heels.

“Good morning,” the redhead says, getting to her feet. “You must be Shaye. Toni said you were on your way up.”

“I am.” I give her my best smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“I’m Kelly.”

She comes around the side of the desk. Her body is slim and wrapped in an emerald-green dress. With her red hair and green eyes, it’s a stunning package.

“Welcome to the team,” she says.

“Thank you.”

My eyes dart around the room. The four cups of coffee I had this morning—double my usual intake—aren’t doing me any favors. My hands are shaky as I take my purse off my shoulder.

“Hey,” Kelly says, a laugh buried in her tone. “Relax. Don’t be nervous. You’re going to do great.”

I blow out a breath as my shoulders drop. “Is it that obvious?”

“A little.” She smiles. “First-day jitters are normal.”

I wonder if being awake, dressed, hair and makeup done, and being overcaffeinated by six thirty in the morning is normal, but I don’t ask.

“On my first day here, I vomited in the first hour,” she says, wincing. “I blame the bagel that I got at this sketchy place in my neighborhood, but it might’ve been nerves. Maybe.”

I laugh.

“So, you know, don’t do that, and you’re ahead of me.”

“I’ll definitely try not to,” I tell her. What I don’t mention is the bubble of bile sitting at the top of my throat. “It’s been a long morning already.”

“I know that this can be intimidating …” She smiles knowingly. “The Masons are truly the best bosses I’ve ever worked for. They can be loud and expect a high level of efficiency, but they’re good men, and they employ good people. Trust me.”

The phone on Kelly’s desk begins to ring. She sighs.

“Give me just a moment. This office is understaffed and it just gets busier.” She moves gracefully around the desk again and picks up the phone. “This is Kelly.”

I turn away from her and take in a long, deep breath. The chaos in my brain and body settles slightly thanks to Kelly’s genuine words—and I know they’re true. If I doubted them at all, I wouldn’t have accepted Oliver’s offer.

Trust your gut.

I take another cleansing breath and try to adjust my focus from my anxiety to what I have to do—work. I spin in a slow circle and take in the reception area. It’s masculine and sophisticated, decorated in blacks and grays with copper-colored accents. The windows to the right of each door are covered by blinds from the inside. Soft music plays overhead—some kind of instrumental that’s not really noticeable until you listen for it.

“Sorry about that,” Kelly says. Her heels click against the floor. “Okay, from what Toni told me, you’re Oliver’s executive assistant. Is that correct?”