Chapter 04

QUINN

"Shit, shit, shit, SHIT!" I exasperated, hopping on one foot while I tried to fit my other foot into my black heeled pumps, "He's going to kill me dead!"

Venus gave me that look, the one that looked as if she were raising a condescending eyebrow at me and then barked, sitting down on her hind legs and watching me intently. 

"Don't look at me like that," I chastised, finally getting the shoe on. Squaring my shoulders, I ran a hand down the maroon dress I wore and sighed, "I'm not being dramatic. This asswipe could kill me and bring me back to life if he wished. I have a feeling he and the devil are tight as—" I paused, looking at my corgi's perked ears, "well, they're tight, let's leave it at that."

She barked again, padding her way out of the room so she could get to her food bowl in the kitchen. I was exhausted. When I didn't want to sleep, it came easily but when I was in desperate need of sleep it decided to boycott me. Murphy's law I guess. Whatever can go wrong, will go wrong. And it did. My alarm failed to ring this morning. All four of them! And Venus got bored at night and ate one of the sketches I had been working on.

My freaking dog ate my homework! What the shit?

To top it off, I burnt my hair while setting it and had to not wear make-up because it was taking me too long to get the wing on each eye perfect. As I said, whatever could have gone wrong, went wrong. Murphy's law was in full effect today and I only expected things to get worse. That meant I would definitely be hearing an ear full from Gunnar every time I messed up. I was getting deaf just thinking about it. He had a nice voice, but all he used it for was to scream and chew everyone's heads off.

He was probably the clown from IT. Only, this one targeted adults and not children. It was all beginning to make sense. No wonder he scared the living daylights out of me. He was like Pennywise, Squidward, Eeyore, and freaking Johnny Bravo wrapped in one annoying ass package.

I pulled on my black blazer, grabbing my handbag and phone, "Venus, I'm leaving. Behave please, no peeing on the rugs and especially no number two, three, or four!" I ran awkwardly toward the door, blowing her a kiss and waving, "mummy loves you." With those words, I closed and locked the door behind me. Making extra certain that the door was locked because I honestly didn't trust my neighbors.

I ran down the five flights of stairs as fast as I could. It was already six and I was meant to be at the office at six. Why the hell did I agree to such an early time? Was I stupid? I was beginning to think so. It was already so late when Gunnar had phoned me last night and I wondered what time he got home. Frankly, I wondered if the man got any sleep at all considering he would have needed to get up extra early this morning.

By the time I made it to the last step I was huffing and puffing for air. My internal organs were all screaming at me, begging me to never put them through that again.

Sorry buddy, we need to exercise.

At least, those were the words I pictured my brain telling my other organs with a disapproving look. I exited the building and found a blacked-out Mercedes AMG C63 waiting at the entrance. A man dressed in a crisp white suit and black button-down stood with the door open, waiting expectantly for me.

I walked up to him, cocking a brow in question, "I'm sorry but do I know you?" I had to ask because one: this could have been one of dad's new drivers or two: Gunnar miraculously sent a car to pick me up instead of leaving me to the dogs to hail a cab.

"Miss Daniella Quinzel," the man said and I knew from the name he used that this was a ride sent by Gunnar, "sir thought you'd reach the office quicker in one of his cars so he sent me to pick you up."

I pressed my lips into a thin line, "How nice of him." I muttered under my breath as I got into the car.

It wasn't as if him sending a car made much of a difference. The traffic in New York was heinous and impossible to tolerate. I hated the continuous sound of honking horns, the stench of fumes tainting the air, the lack of stars in the night sky because of all the pollution created by the dumbasses living here. If it were up to me, I'd move to the country where the air would be cleaner and the skies were clearer.

It took us fifty-two minutes to reach the highrise that was owned by Gunnar. It was now close to seven and I was officially an hour late. I scurried in, showing the security my ID card and swiping in to start my day of work. The place was still empty. People would only come in from half-past seven onward and that was only if they started work at eight.

I waited for the elevator and when it finally dinged open, I stepped in and pressed the button leading to floor number seven. Lucky number seven gave you a stunning view of the city below. If you were like me though, that view quickly turned morbid because I had these strange thoughts that lingered in my head.

Like now for instance, what if the cable ties snapped and I went crashing to my doom?

I wasn't pessimistic. I just thought of the weirdest stuff. The elevator came to a stop and with a ding, the doors parted to my floor. I stepped out and looked around. It was eerily quiet that it had goosebumps raising on the surface of my skin. Clenching my molars to keep a strangled squeak in, I walked over to my desk. It was untouched from the day before, as usual.

Going up to the door that read 'Gunnar Astor' on it, I knocked gently and waited to be permitted to enter. After about a minute of no response, I knocked again to get the same outcome. Getting frustrated, I released a low growl. It was early in the morning, I hadn't had my morning coffee and toast — toast was God's greatest gift to mankind. No one appreciated it enough. I was hungry, moody, suffering from a lack of sleep, and this infuriating man wasn't doing the simplest thing of saying 'come in'.

Growing tired of standing there, I turned the knob of the door and opened it a crack to stick my head in. Confusion enveloped me when I found the room empty. My feet worked on their own accord, stepping into the room and silently closing the door behind me. I had never taken in Gunnar's office before. He had a corner office with two sides being windows overlooking the city. That allowed ample light to flood into the room. Oyster white walls gave the impression of the place being bigger than it was with black shelves lining the left adjacent wall. His furniture was simple; a single two-seater leather couch was placed under the black shelving, and the usual desk and chairs you would find in any office.  The place lacked any emotional appeal — no family pictures, no personal taste that could give you an inkling of who or what Gunnar Astor was as a man.

The sound of a door unlocking resonated through the room and I stilled like the freaking statue I always turned to in his presence. A door creaking opened followed next and I watched as everything moved in slow motion. I fisted the hem of my blazer in my palms and gulped when Gunnar stepped out of a room adjoined to his office. The black button-down he wore was open, tanned skin and chiseled body left on display. His dress slacks hung low on his hips and my eyes traced the lines leading down bellow, completely drinking up this God-like man. I immediately snapped my eyes up and found Gunnar's brown locks looking darker than usual and damper — he had just taken a shower.

Letting out a shaky breath, I brought my eyes to his. They were green, flakes of golden brown swimming in their depths and a ring of brown surrounding the orbs. I rocked on the balls of my feet as I stammered out, "S-sorry."

"Miss. Quinzel," he cut me off with a commanding tone, not even fazed by the fact I had literally been ogling him, "you're late."

"Yes, well...I...uh," his God damn body was too distracting. My mouth ran dry and my brain just simply ran away.

Murphy's freaking law!

"You what, Miss Quinzel?" His voice was deep and I imagined it vibrated in his chest when he spoke.

"Traffic, it's because of traffic," I pointed my thumb at the door awkwardly, "I'll just...you know."

Zeus, strike me with your all-mighty thunderbolt!

"There's no need for that. There's still about forty five minutes left until you have to show your face out there," he said, finally doing up his shirt buttons.

I was still plenty flustered though, "No...uh...I shouldn't have come in."

"Yes, you shouldn't have. You lack decent manners but I guess that's expected from someone of your age," he growled, irritation quickly finding its way onto his face, "in the same manner you lack time management."

I scowled at him. Full-on glare that could have Hades shitting his briefs, "You're only ten years older than me," okay, but in my defense, that sounded a whole lot better in my head.

"And with that ten years comes maturity," he scoffed, "not that you'll find any by then."

Oh yeah, because Mr. Temper Tantrum was acting real mature right now!

I wanted to shove my middle finger in his face and scream 'here's a big fuck you from the universe you dick' and I was certain if I did do that, my brother would have been extra proud of me. But, I couldn't offend the boss, and again, being confrontational just wasn't my thing. I kept the snarky stuff to myself.

"I'm just going to be out there until you're done," I murmured to myself, turning on my heel to make a hasty exit.

"The blueprints are on my table. Have a look at them while I get ready. You have until half-past eight to make whatever changes you wish to make. You will be getting the credit you deserve if there are changes. At nine I have a meeting which you will also be attending," when he was done giving me his list of orders he finally breathed.

Panic set in. If he gave me credit — which I probably would deserve, that would mean my father would find out about my involvement. I just couldn't have that. Making my way to the desk, I rounded it and looked at the blueprints, "You don't need to give me credit."

"I don't plan to have you suing me in the near future for stealing your ideas just so you can make a quick buck, Miss. Quinzel. Anyway, you're the first person I know who wouldn't want to get credit for their work," he tucked his shirt into his pants and did up the belt buckle before situating himself behind me. Gunnar was too close, so close that the warmth of his body seeped into my back, "why is that?"

"I'm not the attention seeker you seem to think I am," I said through clenched teeth because I couldn't afford to embarrass myself further by making strange noises. Skimming over the design, I noticed that it was completely different from the first. It had hints of Victorian design elements with the many modern touches that Astor Architecture was known for. Then I turned my attention to the list of resources he would use to make the design a reality. I was appalled by the third item on the list, "Why are you using recycled concrete?"

"They want to keep the budget low, it's cheaper if we u—"

I cut him off, "Yeah cheaper but can you imagine how many lives you're endangering by using recycled concrete instead of the actual thing. Because it's recycled, it's weaker, it will crumble, and when it eventually does, not only will Asher and the construction company be blamed but so will you because apparently, it's your suggestion."

"There's no time to make self-righteous decisions when you're sitting in a position like this, Miss. Quinzel. I simply do what makes the clients happy."

See what I meant. Working on Wall Street meant your morals were easily bought!

"Yeah, well, they can lower their budget some other way or they can take their contract elsewhere. If you're truly looking out for your business you'll see I'm right," I challenged, making my voice strong and gathering all the courage I could because standing up to Gunnar was unheard of.

But I still had my respect and morals intact.

"I'll mention it to Asher when I approach him at the ball," Gunnar's jaw muscle ticked double time. He was that bomb again and the timer was running out. If I didn't run for cover soon, I'd be caught in the blast.

"No, if you really want to do this project you'll talk to him now and make sure he doesn't use this stuff otherwise I don't wish to be apart of this project. Good luck wowing the man!" I shoved past him, making a beeline for the exit without looking back.