Five Minutes Late: A Billionaire Romance

by Sonora Seldon

  But I also didn’t want to leave him alone.

  “Ms. Daniels?”

  I jerked, startled out of my thoughts. As the echoes of his voice faded away in the silent, darkening room, I looked up to see that he still stood at the window, his back still to me as he stared down at the people far below like an astronomer studying a distant planet.

  “Yes, sir?” My voice was tired and small.

  “Ms. Daniels, report for work promptly at 9:00 a.m. tomorrow.”

  My heart stuttered through a few rapid beats. My breath caught in my chest. I still worked here? The apocalypse was postponed? Why?

  And staying meant going back to main reception, where I’d never have the chance to speak another two words to a lofty creature like Devon Killane. I couldn’t decide if this was good or bad news.

  Ashley, you know perfectly well it’s terrible news. It’s also nothing new, and no big deal, really, and you also need to grow up and stop being such a weepy little bitch, okay?

  “Thank you, Mr. Killane.”

  He turned away from the window and smiled at me with his mouth, but not his eyes.

  “Don’t thank me yet, Ms. Daniels.”

  ***

  I knew I was going to regret this, but I couldn’t help myself.

  I don’t like not being able to help myself, but around Ms. Daniels control was impossible. It was quite the most terrifying thing.

  Why was I letting her do this to me?

  4. Sink or Swim

  The next morning I made sure I got to work early. I left my apartment thirty minutes ahead of my usual out-the-door time, the traffic wasn’t too catastrophic for a Tuesday, and I even had enough minutes to spare to run into a doughnut shop and pick up a dozen glazed crullers, so that Jerry, Bob, Eduardo, Michael, and any of their street buddies who happened by could help me celebrate my non-demise. For once, life was sweet.

  All I had to do now was hustle into the Killane Corporate Holdings and General Insanity building, get behind my desk, paste on my company-issued smile, and make it through eight hours without meeting or having to think about Devon Killane.

  With any luck, he’d come in via his private, no-peasants-allowed entrance, and I’d never even see him. I was grateful he’d deigned to let me keep my job and all, but something about the man just got under my skin and stayed there, like a splinter that refused to be ignored. If I didn’t see him today, so much the better.

  If I didn’t see him today, I’d be thinking about those haunted blue-violet eyes and that elusive smile and that body and that weird personality every minute.

  It was going to be a long eight hours.

  I swept through the main entrance at 8:50 a.m., with my purse slung over my left shoulder and the little box of doughnut heaven clutched under my right arm. I slipped through the crowd of busy worker bees in the lobby and headed for my post at main reception, already planning a day of answering calls, directing the lost, brewing coffee, and surfing the web until my fingers fell off.

  At 8:50 a.m. and thirty seconds, that whole ‘life is sweet’ thing blew up in my face.

  A stranger was sitting behind the reception desk.

  Some bitch with a pipe cleaner figure and inch-thick makeup was sitting behind my reception desk, and my stuff was in a box. My picture of Mom, a few magazines and paperbacks, an old Kindle, and my swinging-chrome-balls thingie had all been dumped into a standard guess-what-sucker-you-don’t-work-here-anymore box. Atop them all slumped Lester the dead jade plant, looking more depressed than ever.

  That bastard Killane had fired me after all. After staging that bizarre little scene for me the day before, after waving his psychosis in my face, after teasing and taunting and mystifying me until I didn’t know which way was up and whether I hated him or was crazy about him, the bastard had fired me. He let me think my job was safe, and then he fired me anyway – probably two seconds after I left his office, the asshole.

  Christ, I was going to kill him. I was going to murder him in front of God and everybody, and then I’d call in the paparazzi to take pictures of his body.

  “Ms. Daniels?”

  I snapped out of my murder fantasy and realized I’d wandered over to my ex-desk on automatic pilot, and that Ms. Skinnyass was trying to get my attention.

  “Um, yes, I’m … well, I feel like I’m the former Ashley Daniels, but whatever.”

  She displayed her best sparkling, professional, glad-I’m-not-you smile. This girl would go far.

  “I apologize for any inconvenience, Ms. Daniels. Please feel free to collect your things,” – she nudged the box toward me, undoubtedly eager to get my raggedy-ass crap off what was now her desk – “and report to Mr. Killane’s office immediately.”

  What the …?

  Was I ever going to understand anything that happened in this madhouse?

  “Excuse me? If he’s, ah, if I’m fired, why would they want me up there?”

  “I’m afraid I have no idea, Ms. Daniels – I was just transferred to main reception this morning, and I only know that I was told to have you report to Mr. Killane’s office as soon as you came in.”

  She beamed her perky smile at me, and I wanted to slap it right off her bony little face. As far as she was concerned, the minor problem known as Ashley Daniels was now solved, and I could just get off her turf and out of her life.

  Two things occurred to me.

  First, the doughnuts. I hurried over to the lines of seats in the lobby’s waiting area, and left the box of glazed goodness in one of the chairs. If I dropped off the doughnuts with Thin Slut, the guys would never have a chance to get them – hell, she’d probably dump all those delicious calories in the trash, just of out of spite.

  Once I was back at the desk, I asked about Thing Two. “Ma’am, I believe there’s a keycard I’ll need to get up to Mr. Killane’s floor?”

  “I’ll let his receptionist Dana know that you’re coming, Ms. Daniels, and she’ll be more than happy to access his private elevator for you.” The slightly less brilliant smile she now aimed my way made it clear that my time in her life was now at an end and that I needed to move on.

  Once more, I rode the elevator up from the main lobby, climbing steadily toward the upper floors where serious employees who had a future here did their thing – but unlike yesterday, I wasn’t alone as I rose toward whatever doom Mr. Killane had planned for me. This time it was the beginning of the work day for most people, and as I clutched the box of my workplace belongings to my ample chest, I was surrounded by a changing cast of coworkers – well, former coworkers, if I actually was fired.

  As the floor numbers ticked past on the readout over the doors, I edged to the back of the car and pressed my shoulders against the stainless steel wall as more people crowded in and out each time the elevator stopped. The stops were frequent, executives and tech support and administrative staff getting on and off as they chattered about their endlessly fascinating little lives with each other – but I noticed that the talk changed to whispers when they saw me.

  Trust me, big girls who find themselves holding down exciting and challenging positions that involve answering phones and pouring coffee are right at the bottom of the corporate food chain – before yesterday’s craziness and then whatever was going on this morning, none of these people would have bothered to notice my existence, any more than they would given much thought to a potted plant, or a water cooler, or one of those stupid inspirational posters on the wall.

  But this morning, they looked at me – they looked at me, and they whispered. Men’s eyes lingered on me, women glared, and people put their heads together in private little conversations that involved lots of glancing my way and tittering.

  I caught an occasional word or phrase, and what I heard wasn’t promising – things like “no accounting for tastes,” “seriously?” “bitch,” and “you’re kidding.” I had all I could do to keep myself from slamming a knee into the balls of some snotty suit who leered at me and whispered to his buddy som
ething that sounded like, “a huge ass, but I’d do it.”

  Gee, pal, thanks – I woke up this morning wanting so bad for some jackass to assume I’m a ten-dollar alley whore who …

  Oh. Oh shit.

  That’s why they were all whispering and snickering and rolling their eyes.

  Somebody – probably Dana the Nervous Bitch, maybe the security guy who let me out of the building – must have let it slip that I’d been alone with Mr. Killane in his office for the better part of an hour yesterday evening, and everybody assumed that we’d been up there doing it like bunny rabbits. His reputation for jumping women – usually not curvy nobodies like me, sure, but still – made it plausible, and as for my reputation … well, now it looked like I didn’t have one. At least not the kind you’d want your mom to hear about, anyway.

  Of course, it just figured that on this morning when everybody assumed I was the kind of tramp who’d sleep with her boss, I’d made the fateful decision to wear a friskier-than-usual low-cut blouse that showed off my generous breasts to a point that was just barely acceptable for office wear.

  Great timing, Ashley.

  I tried to sink into the back wall of the elevator and disappear. I rearranged the box of my stuff and the purse dangling from my left shoulder to cover up my cleavage as much as possible, but I ended up just looking like a fumbling, fidgety idiot. Why did it feel like this ride up to my doom was taking an hour or two longer than it did yesterday?

  The elevator climbed higher, entering the upper-level territory of the people who made a serious difference in the company’s command of the financial world.

  The crowds thinned out, but the talk didn’t. Now it was guys in high-end Hugo Boss suits who were eyeing my ass and whispering to each other, and women in designer outfits that cost more than all the clothes I owned put together who were raising their perfectly plucked eyebrows and snickering in groups of two or three about the slutty big girl.

  All this and it looked like I was fired after all? That bastard Killane was so dead.

  After several eternities, I arrived on the floor where the private elevator awaited that would take me up to the Asshole of the Universe’s office. I stepped out to find that although Mr. Killane’s receptionist Dana was once again waiting for me, this time she wasn’t the only one.

  “So this is the bitch? This is the fat-ass whore that nut job is kicking me to the curb for? You have got to be kidding me!”

  A guy in a rumpled medium-fancy suit – not in Hugo Boss territory, but not off the rack either – stood squarely in my path. His hands were fisted on his hips, his pale eyes blazed, and he leaned over me like a cop who couldn’t wait to beat the snot out of a suspect.

  Dana edged up to his left elbow, threw me a despairing glance that was ten times as nervous as anything I’d seen from her yesterday, and put a hand on his arm.

  “Danny, please, none of this is her fault –”

  He shook her off. “Goddamn it, Dana! I’m out the door thanks to this slut, and you’re apologizing for her? You’re probably next, do you realize that? He’ll throw your job at some other random bitch he humps, and you’ll be history!”

  The guy pulled away from Dana and took a step closer to me. I wanted to confront him, but he was so boiling-over mad, I thought he might take a swing at me if I said anything at all. I settled for sidling closer to Dana. She drifted back toward the hallway leading to Mr. Killane’s private elevator, while throwing me a look that said, ‘come with me if you want to live.’

  Danny the Volcano turned to face me and ranted on. What was this guy’s problem?

  “Tell me, lady, just what kind of magic vagina do you have, anyway? It sure as fuck can’t be your face or that blubberball of a body that has Killane acting like you’re the second coming of sex, so that must be some fantastic goddamn cunt you’ve got between your legs!”

  It was news to me that anybody would think I was the second coming of sex, but whatever – this nut job hadn’t just crossed the line, he’d taken a flying leap over it with all guns blazing.

  “Look, buddy, I don’t know what you’re going on about, but back up right now, okay? Whatever you think I’ve done, you’ve got no call to talk to me or any woman like that – I’ll see your happy ass up on charges for assault, sexual harassment, being a grade-A asshole, and anything else I can think of, so you’d better just settle down and –”

  Dana latched onto my arm and hissed into my ear, “Please, you’ll just make it worse, you don’t know what he’s like.”

  “I can make a pretty fair guess, but –”

  She ignored my protest and dragged me after her down the hall. Over her shoulder, she called back to Crazy Guy, “Danny, please! Just go, and I’ll call you on my lunch break, okay? Please, honey, it’ll be all right – just get out of here before they call security, and we’ll talk later, I promise.”

  Wait, was this dude her boyfriend? Her crazy, abusive boyfriend?

  Whoever he was and whatever was going on in his head, Danny Asshole at least enough sense to let whatever this was go for the moment. Sure, he snarled something I didn’t catch under his breath, he spun around and slammed his fist into the wall with enough force to crack the paneling, and he stormed back into the elevator cursing like a sailor, but he did leave.

  Dana didn’t say another word, not until we were aboard Mr. Killane’s private elevator.

  She glanced at me and then returned to staring at her feet. “I’m sorry, Ms. Daniels – Danny just takes it so hard when things don’t go his way. I had the feeling he’d lose it over something Mr. Killane said or did eventually, but he shouldn’t have yelled at you like that – none of this is your fault, not really.”

  Not really? So it was my fault, sort of, in some obscure way she didn’t feel like sharing?

  “Please, Dana, I know this makes only about five minutes total that I’ve ever talked to you in my life, but if you know what’s going on, I wish you’d tell me.”

  No response.

  “And since everybody I ran into on the way up here seemed to think it was common knowledge … Dana, I just talked to Mr. Killane when he called me up here last night. He was a little nuts and all, but nothing inappropriate happened, I swear.”

  Well, he had made some seriously inappropriate suggestions, sure, but this didn’t seem like the time to bring that up.

  “I believe you – Mr. Killane’s scary and more than a little out there, but he would never use his position to mistreat a woman. It’s just … he’s just not like that. I don’t pretend to understand him, Ms. Daniels, but I do know he’s a good man.”

  She paused, chewed at her glossy lower lip, and then added, “In his own way.”

  One floor away from our destination, the doors slid open and two executives in charcoal-grey suits swept into the elevator. They glanced at me, they shook their heads, and the taller one sighed. Then they both turned their backs on us, they made a silent decision that the elevator doors were ever so fascinating, and they stared at the doors as if Dana and I had never existed.

  Moments later, the elevator hummed to a stop. Dana pulled herself together, drew her shoulders up, and put her game face on. She stepped closer to me, but never met my eyes as she whispered, “Mr. Killane will explain everything to you, Ms. Daniels, and I’m sure you’ll do just fine.”

  One of the suits muttered, “I bet.”

  When the doors slid open, Dana led the way across the hall and into the outer office where she did her receptionist thing. She sent the two jerks from the elevator straight on into Mr. Killane’s office, where the hum of voices coming from the open door indicated that several people were already in the presence of the Chief Executive Psycho.

  When the door closed behind them, Dana nodded to the small row of hard, unforgiving metal chairs opposite her desk.

  “Ms. Daniels, just take a seat and I’ll let Mr. Killane know you’re here.”

  Without enlightening me any further on the subject of just what I was here for
– was I fired, about to fired, about to be drawn and quartered, or what? – she stepped into Mr. Killane’s office and pulled the door shut behind her.

  I sat there, I held onto my box of stuff, and I took a deep breath.

  Focus, girl – whatever the hell kind of insanity awaits you in there, you won’t be able to handle it if your thoughts keep scurrying in six different directions like a squirrel on crack.

  Before I could make much of a start on calming down and figuring this thing out, the door to Mr. Killane’s office opened, but it wasn’t Dana returning.

  Instead, an older guy – seventy, maybe? – slipped into the outer office and closed the door behind him. He wore a pinstriped ebony suit that couldn’t have cost a penny more than the Hope Diamond, his waves of crisply styled white hair made him look like a massively upscale version of Alfred the Butler, and yet somehow the total affect was reassuring and real, as if he was somebody’s kindly old grandpa who just happened to be a corporate mover and shaker.

  Oh yeah, and also a Jedi master – maybe it was the calm in his faded blue eyes or just the stately way he strolled past me, but he definitely had that ‘wisdom of the universe’ vibe going on.

  The old man started to head out into the hallway, but then he stopped and turned to face me.

  He smiled. I still didn’t know what was going on, but I did know this was the first person I’d met here in the upper regions who’d smiled at me, just as if I were a regular person. Wow.

  “Miss, for what it’s worth, I think you may be good for him. Devon needs someone real around him, someone to ground him. I hope you’re that person.”

  I had never in my life heard anyone dare to call Mr. Killane by his first name. Who was this guy?

  Just as I was getting up the courage to say something, he sighed.

  “Sadly, you probably won’t last long – his personal assistants never do. But do your best for him, will you? He deserves that much, poor boy.”

  His WHAT?

  My mind went blank. My mouth was going strictly on automatic as I looked up at Old Mystery Guy and said, “Thank you, sir, I’ll try.”