Office Grump An Enemies to Lovers Romance - Nicole Snow Page 0,94
on the forty-seventh floor,” I say.
“Ah, yes, Mr. Heron. That’s number four seventy.”
My feet burn like hell as my red-soled heels carry me back to the elevator. I buzz Magnus. The speaker rings until it goes dead. I try again and again.
I’m just about to text him something horrible when a gravelly voice comes across the speaker.
“Yes?”
“It’s me. Can you buzz me up?”
He doesn’t say anything else but there’s a ding and metal doors slide open.
On the top floor, I bang on his door until my hand hurts. When this jerk opens up, I’m going to tell him where to shove it.
Mag answers the door in flannel pajama pants...and nothing else.
Oh, God.
Of course, I’m staring like a lunatic, baked into place by his muscular good looks and freakishly normal attire.
Of course, his hair is disheveled, and his raging ocean-blue eyes are ringed with dark shadows, but screw it.
He may be a devil.
He may be ridiculous.
He may be a colossal, overbearing pain in my butt.
But this man has the most gorgeous torso perched between two broad shoulders I’ve ever seen, hands down. Lean muscle, corded biceps kissed by ink, abs so shredded I think they might singe my fingertips if I had the lady-balls to touch him right now.
He’s a walking, scowling fitness magazine made flesh.
Mr. Grumpalicious of the century.
Why does he even bother wearing a suit? If I was a guy, I’d walk around buck naked, all the time.
“Brina?” His eyes flicker when he says my name.
“Who are you again? Where’s Magnus Heron?” I ask, unable to stop staring.
He’s so exhausted he looks like he might fall over when he rolls his eyes. His hand cups the doorframe and he rests his head on his outstretched arm.
“What do you need? Did something happen at the office?”
“I just...call me an idiot, but I came to see if you’re okay? Ruby was worried,” I lie.
I was worried.
He sighs. “I’m fine.”
“Are you?” I bite my lip. “You look like you just escaped a torture chamber.”
Something about him looking so worn, so haggard, so unsure makes me want to take care of him.
“Thanks,” he says darkly.
“Tell me what’s really going on, Mag?”
“Only if you tell me why it matters. I already had to bullshit to the one person I never wanted to find out anything. It’s going to crush him.” He shakes his head. “I spared him as many details as I could.”
“What truth?”
“Get in. This isn’t a conversation for the hallway.”
Even though this is his hall, technically, I follow him into the living room. He collapses on the couch, and I sit beside him.
“The fire feels nice,” I say, watching orange and blue flames leaping up behind the glass in a hearth that goes to the ceiling. It’s like something out of a castle.
Heavy steps echo behind the couch. I glance over my shoulder and spot Jordan walking to the kitchen. His eyes are wide, his mouth partly open.
“Hey, there. Have you eaten today?” I call out.
I know I’ve asked the wrong thing when he growls and bangs his head on the wall.
“Jeez, lady! Not you too.”
“He won’t eat,” Mag tells me, leaning over to my ear.
The hot rush of breath against my skin sends needles through my blood.
I focus my gaze on Jordan. “You need to eat. What would you like?”
“Scrambled eggs.” The words are barely more than a whisper.
He’s in luck. I go to the kitchen and stare into a mostly empty fridge bigger than three of me combined. I see sports drinks, cheeses, an egg carton, some butter, and heavy cream.
I pick up the egg carton. It’s so light I hope it’s not empty, and I have no idea how old the eggs are. Flipping the top, I find four eggs left.
Someone needs groceries.
He can’t keep a teenager here without any food in the house. I figure butter will work as well as grease to cook eggs, so I grab that too and search for a pan and utensils.
I cook up all four eggs and pile them onto a plate. A couple of my cousins are his age, so I know how teenage boys can eat. I set the plate on the counter for him.
“Dinner’s ready, Jordan! Come and get it,” I call.
He plods in and sits on a stool in front of the bar, and his stomach roars like a bear before he takes the first bite. Poor kid. He’s starving.
When he finishes the eggs, he brings his plate around to the sink, turns on the water, and picks