Meet Me at Midnight

Gold handle in hand, I swing open the heavy door to our office building, show my badge to the security guard Steve in the lobby, and head toward the elevator, contracts for the Higgins Chocolate company clutched to my chest. I’m on my way back from picking them up at the lawyer’s office and absolutely freaking starving for lunch.

I didn’t get a chance to stop today, and unfortunately for me, I probably won’t before it’s time to go home. I’m way too busy to do anything but try to get through the massive amount of work on my plate even though last week’s Thanksgiving meal has more than worn off.

I push the button to call the elevator and wait for the doors to open, my hair whooshing away from my shoulders when the cart stops at this floor and air is pushed toward me.

When the doors open, I step inside and push the button for the fifteenth floor, watching as the doors close in front of me. They’re almost shut when a well-manicured hand shoots inside, Avery’s voice yelling from the other side.

When they don’t immediately bounce back, I panic, jumping forward to hit the door-open button while she shrieks. The contracts fall from my hands and scatter everywhere, but I get the door open just in time to stop the elevator from starting to go up with Avery’s arm caught inside.

“Oh my God, I almost died!” she says dramatically, one hand to her chest and the other clutched around a fresh cup of Starbucks coffee. I squat and pick up the papers from the floor, piling them haphazardly until I can sort them out at my desk. “Clearly,” Avery tsks. “This is yet another reason to tell Neil that me having a job isn’t a good idea.”

“Are you just getting here?” I ask suspiciously. I haven’t exactly been in the office all day, but she wasn’t here this morning, and her morning coffee order in hand makes me question it. Avery’s morning Starbucks is always of the hot variety. Her afternoon order comes with ice.

“Technically, yes. But I was working remotely. I mean, it is the week after Thanksgiving, you know. There’s just a lot of shit going on.”

“Working remotely?” I laugh. “Doing what exactly?”

“The same thing I do at the office.”

“So…nothing.”

She smiles, unashamed. “Exactly.” She digs in her purse for her lip gloss and smooths some on her lips while she chatters. “But you know how it is. I was out at Novu until three last night, and then that guy from Hermès, Fester…” She laughs, and I scrunch up my nose. “Yeah, the name’s not the best, but he’s hot, okay? Anyway, he wanted to go get tacos from that little truck after, and I told him I would as long as he ate my taco too.”

A shocked giggle escapes my throat. “Avery.”

“What?” She waves a careless hand in the air and flips her hair over her shoulder. “He’s a little weird, but he has unbelievable tongue control.”

“So, I guess that’s why you didn’t come home last night?”

She nods. “Yeah, he’s got a place downtown, so it was easy.”

I can’t deny that Avery not coming home last night was not an issue for me. It gave me the glorious opportunity to sleep in Beau’s bed. All night long. Though, we only slept part of the time. The other part, he spent fucking me so good I can still feel a delicious throb between my legs.

The elevator dings, and the two of us step out, headed for my desk. Avery doesn’t even bother with stopping at her own before sitting on the surface of mine. “Anyhoo, I’m going out with some of the guys I met while I was with Fester last night. We made plans for this Saturday, and you should really come. It’s not, like, a work night or anything, so your shawl can survive the night at home without you.”

“I don’t know,” I say on a shrug.

“Come on!” she insists. “You haven’t been out with me since you got drunk on the boat. That was weeks ago. Plus, we’re going to the new club that’s opening this weekend.” She waggles her brows like that means something. “It’s called Sage.”

My desk phone rings, and I lean forward to pick it up, but Avery slams a hand down on top of it. “I’ll let you answer if you say yes.”

“Avery, I bet that phone call is important.”

She smiles. “Say yessss, Juuuune.”

“Fine!” I agree on an annoyed snap. “I’ll go, I’ll go. Just let me answer the phone.”

Satisfied, she moves her hand and jumps off my desk with a wink and a wave, off to God knows where. I put the phone to my ear quickly, before I miss whoever is on the other end.

“Juniper Perry,” I greet, picking up my notepad and a pen just in case.

“Come by my office,” Seth McKenzie says on the other end. “I have something you need to drop off with the courier.”

“Sure,” I agree easily, listening as he hangs up the call without anything else. I toss down my pad and pen and hustle down the hall to his office, knocking on the doorframe as I lean in.

He waves me in from his spot behind his large desk, talking on the phone at the same time. He holds up a finger to me as he unearths a large manila envelope from beside his laptop and hands it to me, tucking the phone underneath his chin to whisper sternly, “It needs to get there by five today.”

I nod in understanding, even though I’m mentally thinking about how he’s a bit of a dick, and just like that, he’s back to his business again and ignoring my presence entirely. Yeah, he’s definitely a dick. I scoot back into the hall with the envelope, curiosity getting the better of me. It’s not sealed yet, an oversight on his part, so I pry it open just enough to peek.

A Midnight campaign slogan, No Curfew, No Rules, is the first thing that stands out, and my feet come to a skidding stop in the middle of the hallway as my head turns into an out-of-control Ferris wheel.

I know this slogan. I’ve seen this slogan because it’s the foundation of Beau’s campaign. And I know it’s Beau’s campaign because, well, I spend a hell of a lot of nights at his place these days.

Seth, the sneaky fucking snake, was actually successful in his endeavor to steal Beau’s pitch?

I dart my eyes around the room, thankful that no one has noticed that I’m currently standing here with my jaw sitting on the damn floor and slam the envelope shut before running to the bathroom with it to take a closer look.

Once I’m inside, I lock myself in a stall and pull the paper out of the envelope with shaking fingers.

It’s a single document, outlining the breakdown of what seems to be Beau’s entire campaign with specifications for the printer. Seth is expecting me to send this out today, for print next Tuesday, an entire week before Beau’s print deadline of mid-December. He’s stealing Beau’s shit and trying to finish it first so he can claim himself as the victim if he needs to. Gah, this fucker will do anything to keep Beau from being able to beat him in this little competition.

My hands shake as I leave the bathroom and speed walk down the hall to Beau’s office. He’s, of course, nowhere to be found, and the panic I feel is overwhelming.

What in the hell am I supposed to do? What in the helllll am I going to do?

I listen intently for the sound of Beau coming home for the evening through our walls, the envelope sitting on the edge of my bed. I didn’t take it to the courier like I was supposed to, and I’m not exactly sure what that’ll mean for me in the morning.

When I’m certain he’s in his bedroom, I get on Midnight and send him a message.

ElizaBeth: Thank God you’re finally home! I’ve been waiting all afternoon.

His response is immediate and cheeky.

ThunderStruck: I like the sound of that. Eager to see me, huh? Don’t worry, I can be hard by the time you get over here.

I huff out a breath. This isn’t the time to be flirty and dirty, Beau. Nearly hysterical at this point, I cut to the chase.

ElizaBeth: No, no. This isn’t about that. You can keep THAT in your pants for now. This is about a situation at work you need to be aware of.

ThunderStruck: Oh, boo. That’s no fun.

How can he be so freaking nonchalant right now? This is a five-alarm emergency we’re dealing with here!

ElizaBeth: Beau, I’m serious. You need to know what Seth is doing.

ThunderStruck: No, Juni, I don’t. I don’t want to know, remember?

ElizaBeth: This is different.

ThunderStruck: It’s not. I appreciate what you’re trying to do here, but I’m a big boy, okay? Seth can do whatever he needs to do, and I’ll be able to handle it. You don’t need to protect me, I promise. Whatever it is, just let it go on however it’s supposed to.

Just let it go on? Is he serious? I suck in a breath and dig my teeth into my bottom lip.

ElizaBeth: I don’t know if I can do that.

ThunderStruck: You can, and you will. I know you just as well as you know me, and I know you’ll do the right thing. I’ll be fine, whatever it is, I promise.

Dear God almighty, I sure hope so.

Beau may be confident, but I have a bad feeling that everything is just moments away from going up in smoke.

ThunderStruck: But you know what won’t make me fine?

Hope blooms in my chest, my mind utterly desperate for him to let me tell him what Seth is up to.

ElizaBeth: What?

ThunderStruck: If I don’t get to lick your pussy tonight and fall asleep with you in my arms.

My body perks up, awakening from her slumber with hard nipples and a smile. And my heart has momentarily forgotten the whole Seth debacle, grabbing her pillow and pjs and sorting out the quickest way to make a night in Beau’s arms happen.

This man. I swear. He sure knows how to make me forget all the bad things.