Five Minutes Late: A Billionaire Romance Read Free Page A

team from Botetourt & Rockbridge waiting for you in the main conference room on the thirtieth floor.”
    “And how long have I been letting them cool their heels up there, Ms. Buchanan?”
    Her eyes flicked to the digital clock mounted over the bank of elevators. “One hour and twenty-three minutes, Mr. Killane.” No inaccuracy from Ms. Buchanan – she at least could probably count on still being employed at the end of the day.
    “Very well – I suppose I should start drifting up that way, but let’s take our time about it, shall we?”
    Then he walked away from me without another word. He strolled out from behind my reception desk, he sauntered in the direction of the elevators, his executives and aides closed in around him like scavengers trailing after a shark, and he was gone, just like that.
    Almost.
    Mr. Killane and his retinue approached the elevators. The crowd of employees and visitors already waiting there melted away in an instant, suddenly remembering urgent root canal appointments, or feeling the need to take lunch a few hours early, or coming up with any activity at all that involved avoiding the notice of the CEO of Killane Corporate Holdings.
    The executives and aides stood staring like an array of expensively dressed and very important statues at the floor indicator lights above the middle elevator. Mr. Killane waited at the center of the group, still as death and staring up like the rest. He stood out as the tallest man there by at least a few inches, looming over his underlings like a lion in the company of house cats.
    The indicator lights flickered, the elevator bell dinged – and as the doors slid open and the crowd of besuited gibbons surged forward, Devon Killane turned and stared right at me.
    He stayed where he was as everyone else crowded into the elevator, and he kept staring at me. His expression was – confused? Bewildered? Edgy, unsure, at a loss? Where was that blazing anger from a minute ago? I had no idea what he was thinking or why he was staring at me – I just stared right back at him, utterly lost as to what the hell was going on here.
    A few brave aides finally emerged to herd him into the elevator with everyone else, but Mr. Killane was still staring at me as the doors slid closed.
     
    ***
    Who was she? In a world of shadows, why was she so real? Why did I care?
    ***
     
    So was I fired or what?
    I spent the next eight hours asking myself that question. I slipped behind my desk on shaky legs, I retrieved my chair, I plopped my theoretically luscious ass into its cushioned embrace, and I wondered when the other shoe was going to drop.
    For the first couple of hours, I assumed that someone from security would be by any minute to take me by the scruff of the neck and hurl me out into the street. I entertained visions of fighting back, of standing on my desk and issuing heroic declarations about management’s abuse of the humble working class – but I nixed that idea, seeing as how I didn’t want everyone’s mental classification of me as ‘that fat girl’ to be amended to ‘that crazy fat girl.’
    Eleven o’clock rolled around, and still no security goons. Well, my former boss did have that meeting with the representatives from Rockbridge & Botetourt to get through, and terrorizing those poor bastards would burn up at least an hour or two of the Chief Executive Asshole’s time. He probably planned to fire me right before lunch, so he could go out to celebrate afterwards at some trendy restaurant in the keep-the-disgusting-common-riffraff-out part of town.
    Twelve-thirty, and it seemed that I was still an employee of Killane Corporate Holdings. My own lunch ran from twelve-thirty to one, but since I’d fronted Jerry that five to advance his drinking career, I had to be satisfied with feeding some change to the vending machines in the basement break room used by the housekeeping staff. Yep, there was nothing like a ceremonial last meal of pretzel twists and Pepsi to