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Except fucking work shit kept getting in the way.

Every time Holt emerged from his office, or Taylor wandered in to speak to him, I had to quickly cover up the sheet of paper I was working on and pretend I was doing something else. And then Holt asked me if I’d emailed our internet provider yet about speeds or bandwidth or something to do with Taylor’s idea to stream the shows online for pay-per-view. Then he asked me to check the invoice from our drinks supplier that had come in to make sure the new stuff we needed for the wrestlers’ signature cocktails was on there.

I was pretty sure my worker rights were being abused or something. Didn’t Holt know that I had something really important to do? Something way more important than work? Well, no, he didn’t, because I hadn’t told him what I was doing. But still. He should’ve sensed it. He should’ve thought, ‘Oh, Larkin’s concentrating on something. Better not bother him with work.’

I suppressed my annoyed huff when the door opened yet again, fixing a bright smile on my face as I looked up and saw Taylor coming into the room. “Hey, T-bone.”

“Hi, Lark.” He smiled back as I discreetly slid a blank sheet of paper over the one in front of me. “Holt in his office?”

“Uh-huh.” I watched as he opened the door and slipped inside, closing it behind him, then immediately hunched back over my desk.

Seb was helping the maintenance guys lug in the cladding for the new, bigger merch stand in the arena. Taylor definitely hadn’t wasted any time in improving Goliaths. I was still trying to convince Holt to put The Creamed Jeans on the drinks menu as my official signature cocktail. I was sure I’d wear him down eventually.

As much as I missed Seb sitting in here with me, I took advantage of his absence by focusing on my plan. It wasn’t actually all that complicated, but it still required some thought. And a lot of measuring. Yesterday, I’d gone into the office supply closet for the first time in months after coming up with the idea.

It had been a couple of days since I’d spent the night at Seb’s. Every time I thought about what he’d said to me in the dark, my gut bottomed out and a sense of urgency burned in my chest. When I’d woken up in the morning, I’d realised I’d migrated over to his side of the bed during the night and draped myself over him, my face almost buried in his armpit. I’d definitely been drooling, so I’d quickly shuffled back and wiped my mouth just as he started coming to.

It had been so nice sleeping with him—properly, in a bed this time. He’d been all warm and smelled so good, and I’d dozed off quickly with my face buried in his chest and his big arms around me.

I wanted it again. All the time. Only with him.

I was hoping to get this finished today, but just as I was making good progress, the door burst open again. Corey swept into the room in a pair of wide-leg pink palazzo pants and his usual flowing silk robe, with Cora tucked under his arm.

“Lark,” he boomed dramatically. “Is Holt in there?”

“Uh…” I darted a look at Holt’s closed office door. “He is, but I think he’s having a meeting with Taylor…”

Corey was already striding with graceful determination toward the door. “I need to speak with him. Urgently.”

I hurriedly shoved back my chair as he flung open the door without even knocking. As he swept into the room, I peered around the doorframe to give Taylor and Holt my classic ‘adorably sheepish apology’ smile, but paused when I saw only Holt sitting stiffly behind his desk.

No Taylor. Anywhere.

Except… he definitely hadn’t left.

“Corey.” Holt’s voice was tight. Then I noticed he was gripping the edge of the desk. “What, uh… what can I do for you?”

He suddenly twitched and pressed his lips together tightly, his face turning a deeper shade of grey.

A huge grin slowly spread across my face.

I knew where Taylor was.

Corey stopped directly in front of Holt’s desk and pulled something out of his robe pocket, managing to convey pure disdain as he dropped it on top of the keyboard. Holt stared down at it blankly.

“You cannot expect me to endorse this.”

Releasing his death grip on the edge of the desk, Holt reached unsteadily for whatever it was. He seemed to be struggling to concentrate as he said, “Uh… I… It’s a—nngh—good deal for us, Corey—”

“It’s a joke!” Corey cried, gesturing dramatically with Cora. “It makes a mockery of my artistry. Look at it, Holt.” He snatched the thing—it looked like a packet—out of the boss’s hand and brandished it. “Look at it.”

“What is it?” I asked with interest, coming closer and grinning evilly at Holt to let him know that I knew exactly what was happening right now. And exactly where Taylor was.

He flushed even more, narrowing his eyes before jerking his head meaningfully at Corey. I knew what he was trying to tell me. He wanted me to get rid of the big orc.

I helpfully ignored him.

Corey sighed, holding out the packet to me, then covering his eyes with his hand once I’d taken it. I looked down and snorted.