Out of the Storm - COMPLETE

Chapter 5

Theo

PUNCHING MY FIST into my desk, I grimace. "Son of a fucking bitch." I bite down so hard on my lip, I stick my tongue out and lick it. The metallic taste lets me know I chomped down a little too hard. Get a fucking grip on your temper, Theo. Taking a cleansing breath, I pick the phone back up, and press redial.

It doesn't even ring. "This is Marco. Leave a message."

"Seriously? You cut your phone off?" Shaking my head, I stand up, kick my chair away, and run my free hand through my hair as I look out at the setting sun over the Amberton skyline. "I need you to understand how serious this is...how important it is that we get this figured out as soon as possible, Marco." Blowing out a breath in the phone, I pinch the bridge of my nose. "I'm tryin' to help you, but I can't do that if you don't take this seriously. So, please call me back as soon as you get this." Turning around, I glance at the computer screen. She's still staring back at me, that cheeky smile on her face. "With the one and only thing I've asked of you. With which one of those fu—" I can't even put Jules in the same class as Charlie, as much as I want to. Not yet. Everything in me wants to. I open my mouth and try to say the word again, but it won't come out. Shit. "You call me back with which one was in charge of your account. All right? Hope your date goes or went well depending on when you get this. Okay, buddy. Bye."

I don't really give a rat's ass about his date. In fact, I still wish he'd called it off, but honey gets more bees than vinegar or some shit like that, right?

Glancing down at my hard cock, I'm wondering what the hell is literally up with me and my sudden infatuation with Jules. This is not good. I can't possibly help Marco if I'm thinking with my dick instead of my head. I have to get her out of my system.

Maybe I just need to get myself off. Not in here, though. Not with wide open windows where anyone could see with a pair of binoculars. I almost lost control earlier. The bathroom. Because there's no way I can wait until I get home. Slamming my computer closed, I snatch my keys from my desk and shove them in my pocket, locking the handle of my door, and hustle down the hall. The ache from my swollen cock not being relieved is growing with each passing second.

Opening the door, I rush into one of the stalls. This building is beyond opulent. It's costing me a small fortune. Out of all the shit for Marco to get himself involved in, he'd have to choose this. It's not enough that the building has its own gym and shit. But the bathroom has fucking marble floors and instead of just regular stalls like a normal place because this is where we come to pee and take a dump, it has these floor-to-ceiling rooms. I mean, I'm not complaining, because if I ever wanted a private place to fuck someone, or my own hand, there's a ton of privacy, but it's a bit overkill for a bathroom. And I'd rather spend my money on other stuff than fancy bathrooms, which I'm sure some of my lease money is going to support this insanity.

Locking the stall door, I lean back against the dark, cherry, wooden door and free myself. As soon as I buck my hips, the door makes a rattling sound. Fuck. That's not going to work. I push myself off the door and stand in the middle of the stall, spreading my legs a little, closing my eyes. Jules is all I can see. Her in that little red dress that hugs her body in all the right places. The way her cleavage pushes up because the top's so tight, and I pretend I'm tracing my tongue across her neck, her collarbone, all the way down to the mounds of those tits. My hand starts to move up and down. Yeah. That feels so good. If she were in front of me, I'd turn her around against that door, and I'd lick my way down until I freed those tits from that red material so I could take them in my mouth, swirling my tongue around her pert nipples. She'd suck in a breath as she threaded her fingers in my hair, begging me for something, anything, what she'd have no fucking clue. My lips curve up in an evil grin, and my hand speeds up. I'm getting close. My pulse is racing. My cock is throbbing, begging for release.

"That Theo dude is a fucker."

Everything in me freezes. My hand, my heart, my breathing. I'm a fucker all right. And I'd really like to finish fucking my hand, Charlie. What's he doing here?

"Something's off with him. Do you think Castiglione sent him?" Charlie asks. Who is he talking to? Why is he on my floor? I made sure to get my office on a different floor than Hawke and Hemingway. And everyone's is on a different floor than the gym.

Who the fuck is Castiglione?

Silence.

Do they hear me? Do they know I'm in here? Shit. I don't want to act like I was using the bathroom. I don't want them to know I was in here, but I also don't want to be caught with my pants down. Think, Theo, think.

"Don't be paranoid." Angelo. Right.

"He said he was Greek."

"Lots of people are Greek, asshole."

There's no sound of peeing. The sinks aren't on. They're not doing anything. What the fuck are they doing? Why do they care what I am?

There's a rustling around. "Are they still planning to do that to Jules tonight?"

"As far as I know."

My eyes widen. Thank goodness they don't make noise when they do that. "Good," Charlie says. I can hear the smugness dripping from his voice, and I want to wrap my hands around his throat, pin him to the wall, and slowly push him up while he dangles, begging me to put him down.

"Are you meeting her after? You know, so you can pick up the pieces? Be her savior?"

He chuckles. Bastard. "Yeah. I told her I'd reward her sweet cunt if she didn't cancel tonight."

My eyes squeeze closed. What can she possibly see in him? And all I can think is Jules is in serious trouble because of what I heard in the gym and what I heard just now.

There's a rustling of bags, then the door opens and closes. I'm not sure how many minutes pass before I start to breathe. But then, I pull my pants up and rush out of the stall, back down the hall, and to my office.

Grabbing the key from my pocket, I unlock my office door, glancing at the pinstriped suit in the corner that I decided to keep here in case of an emergency. This is a long fucking shot, but I don't know what else to do. And funny how I was worried ten minutes ago about jerking off in front of my windows, and now I'm stripping in front of them without a care in the world. But I change quickly.

I leave all my stuff in the office, only taking my cell and my keys. Locking the door behind me once I'm changed, I head to the elevator and press the down button. When the doors open, I walk inside and slide my sweaty hands down my pants before punching eight, the floor of Hawke and Hemingway, then I say a silent prayer that Charlie isn't planning to meet her there. But why would he? He's letting her take the fall. That's what he said on the treadmill. And something's about to go down. And it's not just me.