By the time we were in the elevator up to Max’s main offices, I was exhausted.
But not from the heat.
From her.
She was wicked in the ways she came up with to use those damn gold bars. It was almost indecent.
And damn, did I worship her for it.
And realized I’d be sad when this chaos was over when we weren’t living in craziness together, rating a sick apartment, and taking part in Emory Games that, let’s be honest, HR should have hacked out years ago!
It was really the only confusing thing about our entire situation. Granted, rating the apartment seemed like a normal task for marketing or even sales, but adding the whole games aspect just seemed strange, and yet it was easy to see how much the employees enjoyed our torture, which begged the question, how the hell did Max get away with it?
Was it one of those cases of, I’m a billionaire, ergo I get a billion free passes?
Frowning, I walked out of the elevator, bag of cash and gold in one hand and holding Olivia’s with the other.
A year ago, I would have taken the money and run.
Today? I would prefer to shove it in Max’s face, then shove my face in Olivia’s, tell her how I feel, how I’ve always felt despite our differences.
I’d been jealous of how easy she made everything look, from grades to friends, jobs—everything had seemed handed to her.
But now I knew that it wasn’t the case.
But how do you stop hating someone from afar when the only thing you want is to love her up close?
“Ready?” I asked as we stood in front of two giant black doors with the initials ME in silver making up the handles.
Olivia went up on her tiptoes and kissed my cheek. “As ready as a person can ever be when faced with someone like Max Emory.”
“Well, when you put it that way.” I winked.
I reached for the M; she reached for the E as we pulled the doors open wide and walked in.
Max was standing with his back to us in a black and white pinstripe suit, hands shoved into his slacks pockets as he looked out the massive glass windows over Manhattan.
He said nothing, just stared out.
Other than one camera guy, who seemed to be filming just Max as he basked in all his rich glory, nobody was there to witness our final game.
Weird that I didn’t actually feel relieved about that.
He could toss us out that window, with proof from the video guy, and we’d probably still come up as missing persons.
I dropped the bag onto the floor in dramatic fashion then winced as the gold made a seriously loud thunk against the black marble floors.
Hope I didn’t crack something that couldn’t be fixed with Flex Seal.
“Ah,” Max said, still staring straight ahead at the window. “The sound of honesty.”
I shifted on my feet as I waited for him to turn around, but he didn’t; he just kept staring. “Did you touch it?”
“Yes,” we said in unison. I almost reached for her hand and squeezed, but would that be frowned upon in an office environment?
“How?” Max asked.
“How?” I repeated. “How what?”
He looked over his shoulder. “How was it touched?”
Oh shit. Could he see the guilt on our faces?
I shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal and said, “You know, with our hands.” And other parts of both our bodies. Surprise, your gold probably has penis on it, but gold is gold, am I right?
Max finally turned fully around, his eyes were weirdly knowing like nothing got by him, and he was enjoying the uncomfortable as hell situation we’d just gotten ourselves into. “I like gold too… Don’t think I’ve ever liked it that much.” He smirked. “But it’s to be expected when you’re young and in love—”
“You were watching!” Olivia yelled.
I reached for her hand and squeezed. She needed this job too, and yelling at your boss probably wasn’t a good way to interview.
Max just shrugged. “We turn off the cameras at night…and well, we don’t put any in the…private areas, except…” He chuckled. “With you two, we had to stop filming altogether, wonder why that is…”
Heat crept up my neck and flooded my face. “We, um, are avid believers in…um…sport.”
Max barked out a laugh. “And I thought I was the only clever one in the room. Do tell about this sport under the roof of your employer’s hotel as you intern for a job…are we talking bowling? Ping pong? Damn, I love a good pong game. I’d even be okay with naked charades because, man, you gotta stay honest and vulnerable, feel me? With all the shit out in the world, sometimes it just feels good to exist in our own perfect skin.” He seemed to blackout for a moment, and then he shook his head. “But I digress. Please, entertain me.”
He sat at his desk and leaned back.
“So…” Olivia started then elbowed me. “We just…like…physical…”
I squeezed my eyes shut and shot my thoughts at her. Don’t say it, don’t say it.
“Exertion,” she finished with a proud smile.
Oh, dear God.
I smacked my hand against my face and winced.
“What?” she hissed. “Did you have something better?”
“Olympic bed sport!” I blurted. “Sans clothes so nobody can cheat!”
“No need to shout.” Max waved us both off. “You both passed the next challenge perfectly. It was about honesty, in case you were curious why we sweat you both out and put the money in…what’s that area? The heating? Cooling? Is there a fridge there?”
“But really,” Olivia said under her breath. “He’s a billionaire?”
“Heard that.” Max snapped his fingers. “So, today’s going to be your lucky day.”
“Mine?” we both said in unison.
“Sure.” He grinned. “You see, typically we have a finale, but because of the, um, what did you call it? Olympic bed sport, we can’t film anything without putting an NC 17 rating on it, and most of our employees would suffer trauma from the amount of
