Three

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Nathan tapped his fingers against the table, glancing towards the door upon hearing it open

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Nathan tapped his fingers against the table, glancing towards the door upon hearing it open. His stomach bottomed. It wasn't her.

The weekend had dragged. Even a trip to his club had brought him no pleasure. But now it was Monday. Checking the time on his phone. 12:20pm. She was late. Where was she?

Was she sick?   Had she been in an accident?

Damn! He hated his imagination, palming his forehead.  Despair tore shreds from his gut. Why hadn't he followed her on Friday? Walked her back to wherever she was heading. Why, where this woman was concerned, did he act out of character?

She's not going to show. You blew it. Asshole.

Pulling a few dollar bills from his insides jacket he left them under his still full coffee cup. Fuck. He pushed himself up from the table, taking one last look at her usual spot, hoping as if by some miracle she would appear.

He messaged his driver to tell him to head back to the office. He would walk today. Perhaps the fresh air would clear his irritation with himself for hesitating on Friday. He only hoped when he returned tomorrow, fate would once again shine on him.

~ ~ ~

"Good Afternoon Mr Knight."

Nathan looked up to see Harry on the front desk. "Hey Harry. Good?" Nathan made sure he spoke to everyone who acknowledged him. No matter what position they held in the company. If they worked for Knight, they were family and deserved his respect. His father had drilled that into him and his brother from a young age.

"All good Sir," Harry replied, tipping his head.

Offering a rehearsed smile, he headed towards the elevator. His phone pinged as the elevator door closed.

A reminder in his calendar

1-15pm. Head to Forensic Accounting twenty-eighth floor.

The conversation came back to him from Friday with his father. Frank Jenkins Junior Forensic Accountant.... Rayne Winters.  The name didn't ring a bell. Resigning himself to put all thoughts of her from his mind, he pressed the button for the twenty-eight floor, leaning against the elevator wall, resting his head.

~ ~ ~

Rayne's day had started the same as every workday... with one minor difference. Today there had been a green-eyed man in her fantasies, no longer a faceless person. Her cheeks flushed at the recall of naked bodies, entwined limbs and heated kisses.

Sadly, her joy was ripped from beneath her feet the second she stepped inside her workspace.

Miss Spruce.

Rayne's heart twisted and her stomach sank, sucked into the pit of despair.  Attempting to assemble coping strategies, her mind suddenly was ineffective.  Festering guilt of perceived failures dominated as rushes of overwhelming feelings and negative compulsions came flooding to the surface. It took a sharp bite to her inside cheek  and many deep breaths to gain a small semblance of control. 

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