Black Ties and White Lies(12)

My patience wearing thin, I lean over the desk. “Look”—my eyes scan over his uniform until I find a name tag—“Barry, you and I both know that I have the highest security clearance there is here. I don’t think we need to bother with printing me a guest pass, do we?”

Barry coughs, looking up at me, his eyes full of panic. “Uh, sir, is this a test?” he squeaks. “I’m not supposed to let anyone in without a pass.” He looks back at his computer, typing a few more things. He reaches up and smacks the side of his computer tower. His eyes get large when he realizes I just watched him smack his computer.

Swallowing, I look at him. “Barry,” I say tightly. “I own this fucking company. I’m going to go on up and not bother with getting cleared. You got it?”

He looks unsure as he nods. I don’t give the guy much room to argue.

People give me odd looks as I step through the glass doors of the office. Darlene, or at least I believe it was Darlene, jumps from her seat when she sees me approaching the sea of cubicles. “Mr. Sinclair, we weren’t expecting you today.”

I barely spare her a second glance. “I wasn’t aware I needed to announce each time I was going to stop by.”

She follows closely behind me as I weave in and out of the cubicles, my eyes scanning over everyone working at their desks.

“You don’t, sir, I just would’ve made sure—”

Turning abruptly, I stop in front of her. Her mouth hangs open as she looks up at me. Even when trying to smile up at me, her mouth still turns down in a frown. “I don’t need you to follow me, Darlene. I’ll take it from here.” I dismiss her with a simple flick of my wrist.

At first, she doesn’t get the hint. It takes me making a shooing motion in the air for her to turn around, her shoulders tight as she makes her way back to her desk.

No longer having to deal with Darlene, I scan the large office space, my eyes searching for one person and one person only.

There she is.

Margo’s back is to me. Her long hair falls all the way down her back, the tendrils tamed stick straight. She’s engaged in conversation with somebody, her hip propped against a desk. The woman listening to her is engrossed with whatever she is saying. I stop, watching Margo for a few moments before either one of them notice that the office has gone quiet, all of them with their apprehensive eyes on me.

I get it. When the boss shows up, everyone loses their damn minds. It’s like they forget to work. Or maybe they’re just never great at working at all. Hopefully, for the sake of business, it’s the former. Lucky for them, I don’t plan on staying long. As long as Margo cooperates.

Which could go one or two ways with her.

Margo talks animatedly with her hands. Upon closer inspection, she grasps something. The bobblehead in her hand swings around in the air. At one point, her coworker has to step slightly to the left to avoid being smacked in the head with the item.

My lip twitches in amusement. It doesn’t take long for my feet to eat the distance between us. I come to a stop at Margo’s back. Her coworker notices me right away. She freezes, her hand stuck in the short blonde strands of her hair.

“Margo,” the coworker hisses, hastily finishing her task of clipping her hair back.

“I’m not done talking!” Margo chides, angrily setting the bobblehead on the cubicle shelf.

Is that Nash Pierce?

The blonde smiles playfully, raising her eyebrows. “Mar, I’d advise you to stop this conversation until we get home. Someone is standing behind you, and he looks pretty pissed.” The blonde—maybe also a roommate—doesn’t hide the amusement in her voice.

Margo spins on her heels immediately, her puffy lips parting when her eyes land on me. When she looks me up and down, I can’t help but wonder if she likes what she sees.

“Beck?” she gasps. Her green eyes are wide as they travel over my features. It’s like she’s trying to figure out if I’m actually here or just a figment of her imagination.

“This is Beck?” The girl attempts to whisper, but it comes out more as a yell. “You didn’t tell me our new boss looked like that!”

Margo aims a dirty look in the girl’s direction. “Shut up, Emma. He’s not that special to look at.”

Someone busts out laughing from a few cubicles away. They quickly try to hide the laughter with a cough, but it’s too late. Margo gives them a dirty look, muttering something incoherent under her breath.

“Stop lying to yourself,” the coworker—Emma—mumbles. “That’s the best looking man I’ve ever seen.” She bites into an apple I just now notice she’s holding. She chews on it loudly, not shy about looking me up and down.

“I think I hate you,” Margo snaps, shoving what must be her friend from the cubicle space. Her friend fights her by digging her heels into the ground. Margo is smaller than Emma, but still manages to move her a few feet.

I reach out to tap the bobblehead she’d been swinging around minutes before. As the head bobbles up and down, I look at her with a bored expression. “Working hard?” I ask sarcastically.

She scoffs, looking over her shoulder to her computer screen. “Emma and I were going over a new design before you walked in.”

“Is that so?”

“Yep,” she answers confidently.