“Come in!” I called.

Two security guards walked in and looked at me, then at Audrey.

She immediately stopped crying, like she always did whenever there was an unexpected audience.

“I don’t need any assistance walking down the steps!” She laughed. “Thanks for calling for back up though. My knees are fine, Jonathan!”

“You really should pursue acting Audrey.” I shook my head. “You would be great at it. Could you two please escort Miss Greene out to the parking lot and make sure to take her name off the approved visitors list?”

“Yes sir.” They motioned for her to leave the room first.

Audrey looked back at me and scowled. “I don’t want you back anyway, you sucked in bed! You couldn’t keep your dick up for more than a minute!”

Jesus...

The door slammed shut and I leaned back in my chair.

Maybe I need to date someone older...Someone more mature...

On Thursday, I stayed late working on the marketing department’s reconstruction plan. I wasn’t sure why Claire hated her job so much, but if the ideas her department submitted for the sPhone blue were any indication, I would probably hate working here too.

Their submissions were awful, god awful: “The new sPhone blue: Just blue it,” “The new sPhone blue. Yeah, it’s blue,” and “The new sPhone blue: Buy it. Ask questions later.”

There is no way “adults” came up with this nonsense...

I shut the folder and decided to call it a day. We were definitely going to have to hire new talent. Soon.

I took the elevator down to the executive lot and slid into my Bugatti. Shifting gears, I prepared to speed all the way home, but I saw Claire arguing with a tow truck driver on the other side of the lot.

Just as I pulled over, he drove off with what I assumed was her SUV.

“Claire?” I stepped out of my car, eyeing the way her black skirt hugged her hips, the way her emerald green blouse exposed just the right amount of cleavage.

She looked at me and shook her head. “This is a perfect example of why I hate working here. Is it really necessary to tow your own employees’ cars if they stay over late? Is that really the best way to discourage over-time? How about just shutting off the damn time clock at the end of the day?”

She walked past me and sat on a bench. She pulled out her phone and groaned. “Yes...I need a cab at Statham Industries. 130 Jennifer Drive...I’m going to Joe’s Car Tow on Jefferson Street. Yes...No...Yes, I’ll hold.”

“Hey.” I sat down next to her. “I’m sorry about your car. Let me take you to get it.”

“No thanks. I can handle this by myself. I’m pretty sure this was a sign for me to start looking for a new job.”

“No, I’m pretty sure it was a sign for you not to park your car in the ‘nine to five only’ zone.”

Her jaw dropped and she narrowed her eyes at me.

“It was a joke.” I smiled. “Lighten up. I’ll take you there. It’ll save you money and the forty minute wait.”

“Thank you once again, but I’ll be fine. Have a great Thursday, Mr. Statham.” She turned away from me and spoke into her phone. “Yes...By credit card. Yes. I’m ready now.” She pulled out her credit card. “It’s a VISA and the number is three, zero, one, seven, eight, one—”

I took the card out of her hand and walked to my car. I fastened my seat belt and heard her tapping on my window seconds later.

I rolled it down and raised my eyebrow.

“I know it may be difficult for you,” she said, crossing her arms, “but could you please act like a mature adult and give me my credit card back? They won’t pick me up unless they have the full number.”

“The quicker you get in, the quicker we can get your car.”

She took a deep breath and glared at me. “I’m going to ask you one more time to give me my credit card...Please give me my credit card back, Mr. Statham. Now.”

“Get in the car, Claire.”

“I told you no.” She held her hand out. “Please be a gentleman.”

“You’re right. Where are my manners?”

I stepped out of the car and walked around to the passenger’s side, opening the door for her. When she didn’t make a move, I lifted her into my arms and carried her over to her seat, ignoring her exaggerated sighs.

I let my fingers linger against her body for a few seconds longer than necessary, reveling in the feel of her soft skin. I shut her door and walked back over to my side of the car, revving it up before she could decide to get out.

“Put your seatbelt on.” I clicked mine into place. “Claire?”

I reached over her shoulder and buckled her strap for her, resisting the urge to snap off her shirt. Ignoring the intense glare she was giving me, I sped off towards the highway.

“Thank you for the ride, Mr. Statham.” She cleared her throat twenty minutes into the ride.

“Thank you for accepting it. Am I de-invited to your birthday party now?”

“No.” She looked out her window. “You can still come if you want.”

I was coming regardless...

“Good. How was your day at work?”

“Wonderful. As it always is, Mr. Statham.”

I turned off at the next exit. “Please call me Jonathan.”

“I prefer Mr. Statham. It helps me keep in mind why I will never go out with you.”

I laughed. “I love a woman with a sense of humor.”

I pulled into the towing lot and parked right outside the holding office. Claire hastily unbuckled her seat-belt, but I reached over and put my hand over hers.

“Wait here. I’ll have them pull it out front for you. It’s the least I can do.”

I walked inside the small building and the receptionist blushed. “How can I help you today, sir?”

“I’m here to retrieve a car that was towed about a half hour ago from Jennifer Drive. It’s a light gray—”

“Audi Q7?” She pulled a folder from the shelf above her desk. “My records say it was parked in a zone without a proper parking pass. Statham Industries must be an awful place to work, huh? We tow at least ten cars a day from there.”

“Yes, it’s a horrible place. How much to get the car out?”

“Three hundred and fifty dollars.”

That’s ridiculous...Do my employees really have to pay that much every time?

I handed her my credit card and she had me fill out a few pages of paperwork.

“I’ll have it brought out in a second.” She disappeared.

When I walked back outside, Claire was leaning against the hood of my car with her arms folded above her head. Images of her lying like that in my bed, on my shower bench, and on my yacht quickly flashed through my mind.

The things I would do to her...

“How much do I owe you?” She sat up, frowning.

“Nothing, except our date that we’ll be discussing at your birthday party.”

“I don’t think so. I’m fine with you coming to my birthday party, but after what happened today, I’m not going out with you.” She suppressed a smile. “I mean it.”

“We’ll discuss it on Friday.”

Out the corner of my eye, I saw her car rolling through the lot. As it moved closer, I heard a strange popping sound and then I saw the problem: Both of her back tires were shredded; they looked like rubber shingles.

“Are you kidding me?” She rushed over as a scruffy guy stepped out of her car. “Why do my tires look like that? They were perfectly fine thirty minutes ago!”

He shrugged and tossed her the keys. “I just pull the cars around. I don’t ask questions ma’am.”

“How am I supposed to get home in this?” She was fuming now, and I could tell she was trying her best not to slap him. “Why would you deliberately slash my tires? Towing the car wasn’t enough?”

“Well ma’am, we do sell tires here if you’re interested. We currently have a free installation promotion if you buy—”

“Shut the fuck up.” She shook her head. “And get away from me. Right now.”