Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83040 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83040 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
We walk the long hallway, saying hi to other agents as we head for the stairs, and then go down to the main level where there are dozens of people congregating in the large, open lobby.
This particular estate—internally called Grid-21—is but one of hundreds of CORE estates all over the world where operatives, like Brose and me, live. It’s on a forty-acre tract of rolling hills and woods just outside of Leesburg, Virginia, and houses about fifty agents at any given time.
We do not all live in the same house, of course. Brose and I live in the main mansion, but there are nine more houses on the property. All brick, all luxuriously furnished, and all free.
It’s kind of a good deal.
Plus, this place has direct access to the trains below ground. Which means Brose can take his time waking up and we’ll still be able to stop by the dining room for a takeout beverage and a pre-bagged pastry.
He grabs a paper and gets the lemon muffin with coffee, black. I take the scone with a chai latte.
And then we hit the escalator and five minutes later we’re two hundred feet below ground and the station noises replace the soft conversation and kitchen sounds upstairs.
We walk out onto the platform and take a seat on a bench. Brose opens his paper and I sip my tea and people-watch.
I know everyone’s faces. Lots of them give me little waves. But I don’t really interact with anyone, nor they with me. It’s pretty much like this with all paired-up operatives. We’re together. No one else matters.
Brose and I have been a team for the entire two years I’ve been above ground. He’s my life.
Thinking this makes me want to look at him, so I slide my eyes to the side and watch his face as he reads.
“What?”
“Nothing,” I say, my voice sweet and soft.
He doesn’t look at me, but I get a lopsided grin. “You’re thinking about last night, aren’t you? You’re imagining yourself over my knee.”
I wasn’t, but I am now.
He flicks his paper, then gives me a side-eye. “There’s always more where that came from, Olive. All you have to do is ask. I’ll bend you over the back of this bench right now, right here in this station. And then I’ll fuck you from behind as everyone watches.”
There is no way to stop my grin, so I cut eye contact and look straight ahead.
“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” he asks. “You’re such a dirty little whore.”
He calls me this all the time, but not in a mean way. Nor a literal one. “Only with you,” I say.
He scoffs. “That might’ve been true last week, but I know you’ve been secretly fantasizing about that Ean Shephard guy.”
Which isn’t a lie. But he can’t know that for sure, so I deny it. “You’re the only one I fantasize about, Brose. And don’t make promises you can’t keep. If you thought you could get away with bending me over this bench, you’d have done it long before now.”
He laughs. And, probably, starts weighing the pros and cons of following through with his offer. But the high-speed train arrives, sliding along in front of us in near silence until it comes to a stop.
I grin at him, winning, then pan my hand to the train.
He stands up, folds his paper, grabs his coffee and muffin and gives me a slight bow of his head as he passes and enters the train.
He heads to our usual seats in the back of the car. A table for two. I don’t like moving backwards, so Brose takes that seat, leaving the forward-facing one for me. This is one of the small ways of showing me he cares.
And I love it.
I love everything about him. His dark hair, his green eyes, his muscular body, and his big dick. Brose Sinclair is absolutely perfect. My dream man.
So while he was right, I’ve had a few small sexual fantasies about that Ean guy who works for Collin, it’s meaningless. Just urges, nothing more.
I’m gonna marry Brose one day. And while I do understand that he’s my boss at the moment, it won’t always be this way. I won’t always be under his authority. One of these days I’ll get promoted and we’ll be equals. We’ll be one of those iconic duos. Like Bonnie and Clyde, except we’re the good guys.
Brose looks out the window, which is a screen and not actually a window since it’s pointless to have train windows when you’re underground, and watches the news. Our train rides are typically silent like this. He likes his thinking time and I’ve gotten used to it as well.
But I don’t stare at the screens. Don’t care about the news. I watch the people in the car with us. Some of them are teams, like us. But most of them are young women like me sitting alone and facing forward, so I only get a glimpse of their backs.