We get into the elevator and he swipes his badge. The button for the top floor—forty-seven, I was close—lights up.
“Well, you can call me Mr. Carr then, I suppose. Sounds better than Mr. Cassius.”
“Of course, sir. My name is Oliver.”
I don’t know what’s up with all thissirstuff, but it’s weird. I also don’t understand why I can call him by his first name, but I need amisterin front of mine. I’m not an old man.
The elevator starts to move, and Oliver looks up at the numbers showing which floor we’re passing with a small smile on his face. Once we pass thirty, the nerves start as I imagine all the nothingness between us and the ground, but thankfully that’s when he speaks.
“We have a full breakfast laid out for you. Mr. Stone—” Oh, so that’s his name. “—is finishing up a meeting, but he will join you as soon as he can.”
“Okay.”
The elevator stops at the top floor and he steps off. I rush to do the same. What a shame it would be if the car fell from this floor. No way I’m surviving that.
When I step into the reception area, I note a full wall of floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the Chicago river. It’s beautiful. I step closer to look out at it. My stomach flutters, but not in a scared way. I’m thrilled. This is amazing. And if this all goes south, at least I’ll get to say I saw the city from this view. Not everyone can say that.
“Mr. Carr?”
I glance over my shoulder at the tone of his voice—a tone that says he’s called my name more than once. I take one last look at the city, then follow Oliver down a long hallway that opens up into a bright, spacious corner room that is set up like a fancy cafeteria.
There are coolers that hold food, though they are all empty now. More coolers that hold drinks, though there are a lot missing.
“The delivery for the day hasn’t come yet, but the chef is—”
“There is a chef here?”
“Yes, sir. We have a small kitchen for the staff who prefer warm meals over the chilled ones. Mr. Stone has already chosen the menu, I hope that is okay.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“You have no allergies, correct?”
“Nope. No allergies.”
He nods. “I will see where Mr. Stone is at with his meeting, then relay the information to the chef. If you need anything in the meanwhile, you can dial three on this phone and it will go to my desk.” He leaves without me saying a word, and I go to thewindow to get another view of the city. The river is to the right, just enough that I can make out small parts of it. There are too many tall buildings in the way for me to see it all.
I look down at the tiny cars and people hurrying around, and across at the buildings that are taller than this one. All the windows are tinted so I can’t see what’s going on inside, but I’m sure everyone is busy at work.
I always thought I hated the city, but something about seeing it from here, from far away and not caught up in the mix, it’s not so bad. It’s actually kind of—
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
The voice sends a shiver up my spine, and my eyes fall closed.
His voice shouldn’t have that effect on me. I don’t even know the guy.
I turn to face him and try my hardest for my jaw not to hit the floor.
He looks hotter than last time.
Charcoal grey suit, pristine white button up, and another blue tie, though this one is more of an ocean blue with hints of green.
“Uh, yeah. It is.”
“Sorry I’m late,” he apologizes, gesturing to one of the tables with two chairs by the windows. He has a folder in his hand, that he places down on the table behind us.
“It’s fine.”