“Mr.
Sinclair!” Isabella’s voice practically jumped an octave in shock.
Marcus didn’t bother explaining.
He just hung up the call, shrugged off his suit jacket, and gently draped it over Elaine, then went right back to his work like nothing happened.
Elaine jolted awake after wrapping up the latest in a string of weird dreams.
She felt like she’d been hit by a truck—exhausted and a little foggy, probably because of the bizarre dreams that left no clear memories.
With a long stretch that popped a few joints, she sat up straight—only to spot Marcus, as focused as ever, hard at work at his desk.
Right.
She was still in his office.
Her eyes suddenly widened.
She grabbed her phone and checked the screen.
“It’s already two?!”
Sure, she had some backing now, but that didn’t mean she could go completely wild.
Showing up (and disappearing) on time still mattered.
Frantically slipping her shoes back on—she wasn’t even sure when they fell off—Elaine was about to rush out when Marcus’s voice floated over without lifting his head.
“An hour gone with no explanation…
What do you say about that?”
She froze mid-sprint, spun around with the most innocent smile she could muster, and said sweetly, “Mr.
Sinclair…
I swear it wasn’t on purpose.
I even set an alarm.”
His icy look said he clearly wasn’t buying it.
Elaine blinked, gave up trying to BS her way through it, and just admitted, “Okay…
maybe I forgot.”
“I’ll get back to work now!” she blurted and took off like her life depended on it.
As she bolted away, she called over her shoulder, “I’ll stay late and make the hour up tonight!”
Yeah…
total lie.
But what choice did she have?
If she didn’t at least pretend to care, how was she supposed to make Marcus believe she was serious about the job?
One thought of Valtros Group, and she told herself she’d tough it out no matter what came her way.
Back in the secretarial office, Isabella glanced up.
Her eyes screamed murder, like she could rip Elaine limb from limb on the spot.
Oddly, though, she didn’t say a single word.
No scolding, no warnings.
Just a deadly glare that made Elaine feel like an ant under a magnifying glass.
Elaine sat down quietly, already prepared to be chewed out.
She had, after all, ditched work for an hour—and luck like this didn’t show up twice.
If she blew it, there wouldn’t be another chance.
But looks like the storm had passed—for now.
Trying not to draw any more attention, she clicked around on the computer, pretending to study the “materials” loaded on the screen.
Ten minutes later she was so bored she could cry.
She figured killing time with a game couldn’t hurt, but jokes on her, everything fun was blocked.
Internet permissions locked tight.
She could Google work stuff, sure, but good luck trying to download a game.
Still, nothing fun gets past her.
Checking the coast was clear, Elaine pulled a classic hacker move.
She downloaded some flash games, stuffed them all into a hidden folder buried deep in the system, basically undetectable unless you were an IT god.
Her favorite?
Minesweeper of course.
Yeah, this was totally gonna get her through the rest of the afternoon.
She was just getting into it—click, click, thinking hard—when suddenly, she heard everyone around her call out in unison, “Mr.
Sinclair…”
Elaine’s heart skipped.
She looked up slowly…
And there he was.
Marcus.
Standing right in front of her.
Eyes wide, she stared back for two seconds before snapping out of it.
She slammed her laptop shut, jumped to her feet, and bowed sharply at a forty-five-degree angle.
“Good afternoon, Mr.
Sinclair.”
But the game screen?
Oh, Marcus had seen the whole thing crystal clear.
He might not have known where it magically came from, but the fact that she was playing during work?
Yeah, totally busted.