Walking through the lobby of the Chilvati building reminded Steve of why he rarely set foot in the place and preferred working outside. The grey marble walls and artificial lighting were dreary, almost clinical, nothing like the vibrancy of colors that could be found in nature.

The security guard near the hallway of elevators was dwarfed by the tall, curved, wall of a desk he sat behind, which was a pretty poor design for someone who was supposed to have a full view of the surrounding area. The guy didn't even bother to look up until Steve reached him.

Lifting the manila envelope he was carrying, Steve told him, "I have a delivery for Angela Chilvati."

The man pointed to the ledge almost level with his head. "You can leave it there." His focus went back to the LA Times crossword laid out on the desk.

Steve waited a few seconds before knocking on the wood in front of him. "Still here"—his eyes drifted down to the ID badge—"Ernie Popadopoulos." He drew the man's name out as if he were storing it in memory. Which he likely was. Random facts had a way of sticking with him.

The paper was shoved to the side as the man's brows dropped low over a hard glare. "What can I do for you, sir?"

Much better. People doing a half-assed job always pissed Steve off. Especially when it came to security. Placing his elbows on the counter, he leaned in. "I'm supposed to hand this to her directly."

"Do you have an appointment?"

"Nope. I'll just do the drop and bail out."

"Sir, I can't let you go up there without permission."

"Mark Spinelli sent me."

Dark eyes ran across Steve's hair and down to his Billabong T-shirt. "Sure he did."

Ouch. Corporate snobbery at its worst. Mind you, he had left on the fly, anxious to enjoy his few hours off, not bothering to shave or deal with his bedhead or pick out a less wrinkled shirt.

"Look, dude," he said, pointing to the guy's computer, "I'm sure my name is in there somewhere. Steve Morgan." He pulled his wallet from his back pocket, fished for his license, and held it out. "Here, go ahead, check it."

Ernie was slow to take it, his features flattening under the weight of all that skepticism.

After a few hits on the keyboard, he started scrolling.

His eyes went wide. "Oh."

"Yeah. Oh."

"It says Captain Morgan." His gaze went to Steve's hair again as he passed back the license. "You don't look military."

No shit. This was exactly why he didn't throw around his rank. "I'm on extended leave. Can I go up now?"

"The top floor is private. You'll need a key to open the elevator." Suddenly Ernie was all business, picking up the pace as he handed over a visitor badge and a clipboard to sign while imprinting Steve's information onto a swipe card. "The reader is on the bottom right of the panel. Slide the card first before selecting eight. Make sure you do it in that order or—"

"Got it. Thanks." Steve took the card and nodded in the direction of the newspaper. "Enceladus."

"Excuse me?"

"Two down, nine letters starting with an E, one of Saturn's moons. Enceladus."

With one finger, Ernie dragged the paper closer. The man's lips moved as he mentally fit the word into the column of empty squares. "You're right," he muttered. "I was going to Google it. You figured that out reading upside down?" He flipped the paper around as if expecting to find a line of answers in fine print near the top. "You into astronomy or something?"

Steve shrugged. It was just another random fact swimming around in his head, driving him insane. "Something like that."

On the way up in the elevator, Steve checked his phone. Working 24/7 had been killing his sex life, but after finding out he had the morning off, he'd sent out some feelers. A few answers had already come in.

Mary: SORRY BABE I'M WORKING THIS MORNING

Rachel: I'M VISITING FAMILY IN COLORADO. BE BACK SAT. MAYBE WE CAN HOOK UP THEN

Victoria: CAN'T. I'M SICK AS A DOG RIGHT NOW

Damn it. Victoria had been his first choice too. Last time he'd been with her, she'd done some nasty deed with her tongue that nearly—

The elevator doors slid open. He stepped out, right into an expansive office. Actually, penthouse was more like it, the view of the city in the distance through the floor-to-ceiling windows spectacular. A young woman stood on the far side of the room, half-bent over a desk the size of a freight car, spreading out files across its surface. Soft waves of auburn hair fell forward like a canopy, shading the neckline of her green dress, and from Steve's position, he could just see the beginning curvature of—

"Can I help you?"

Shit. She was looking right at him. While he was looking where he shouldn't.

Say something, idiot.

He held up the envelope as he crossed the room. "I have a delivery for Angela Chilvati. Do you know when she'll be in?"

The woman straightened. Crossed her arms. Tilted her head. She was a tiny little thing with light blue eyes, so light they looked . . . grey. He'd always had a fondness for redheads, but this one was a knockout. He suddenly found himself wishing he'd taken a little more time getting ready, gone for more dapper, less drifter. The Chilvatis' secretary was probably wondering how he'd gotten up onto the private floor.

She put her hand out.

"Mark Spinelli sent me. He had some school function to go to this morning, so he'll be in later. Nothing personal, but I'm supposed to give it to Ms. Chilvati in—"

"I'm Angela Chilvati."

Huh? "Oh . . . I . . . ah." Holy shit.

"You sound surprised."

He shook his head. "No, it's just . . . I thought you'd be older." Much older.

Those striking eyes narrowed. "Why? Think I'm too young to be running this company?"

"No, I just—"

"Because I'm sick to death of that attitude." She went back to moving the files around, slamming one on top of another. "Being in your twenties doesn't make you incapable, it just means you have to listen and­—"

"Dude!"

Her head snapped up.

"I thought Gus's sisters were older than him, that's all."

Her shoulders sagged. "I'm the youngest," she muttered. "The asshole is in the middle."

Steve had to laugh. "I'm with you on the asshole part, fer sure." He turned his head to the view, eager to get back outside. "This is some bitchen office you got here."

"It was my father's. He hid up here most of the time." She sighed as she looked around, the memories still fresh no doubt. "My sister and I are cleaning it out, converting it to an open workspace. We both have a more integrated management style, and quite frankly, we could use the additional square footage. With Mark's help, we are growing at an unprecedented rate."

"Awesome. Mark said you guys were doing a primo job."

"Mark is a great man," she all but whispered down to the desk.

Steve frowned, telling himself it was his protective instinct for Virginia and not hearing another man's name on her lips that was causing his temples to pound. "He's also happily married."

"No kidding. The man talks about his wife every day. 'Happily' is an understatement," she said while shooting him the evil eye. "Why? You think I'm out to break them up? I'm the type that goes after the boss to secure her position, right?"

Steve raised his hands. "Whoa, chill, dude . . . I just came to deliver this." He lowered the envelope in the air between them, ever so slowly, like he was offering a ribeye to a lion.

She snatched it out of his hands. "Why do you talk like that?"

"Huh?"

"The Surferese. It dumbs you down."

"Excuse me, but I am who I am." He spread his arms wide. "I don't need to go around impressing anyone, including you."

She ripped open the seal. "That's not who you are."

"You don't even know me, lady."

The glance she gave him came with an unspoken, oh, please. "Captain Morgan, Marine, engineering specialist, top of your class, both parents alive and well and still married, one sibling."

Looks like somebody's been checking me out. He smiled. "I'm flattered."

"Don't be." She pulled the papers half out of the envelope. Her lips rounded into a sweet pucker as her eyes drifted over the opening paragraphs. While reading, she continued with, "I'm in charge of security for this building. You and your brother have the highest clearance—next to the three of us, of course." She pushed the documents back into their wrapper with a muttered, "Great."

"Anything I can help with?"

"No . . . thank you for stopping by."

He was being dismissed. Fine. He was halfway to the elevator when he stopped and spun around. "You should look into replacing that desk in the lobby. The guard can barely see over it. More glass in the front would be better."

There was a long silence, her stare beating into his as she tapped the envelope against her chin. Then, "You're right. He should have an unobstructed view, especially now with Trovato showing up. Thanks. I will get right on that . . . or should I say, 'Aye, aye, Captain.' "

There was a soft, mischievous laugh when she gave him a sloppy salute, and once again, as he often did, Steve cursed the gift he had been given, knowing he was never, ever going to forget that sound.

After stepping onto the elevator, he risked one last glance across the office.

She had her hand raised, as if waiting for him to look over. Starting with her pinky, she dropped one finger at a time. "Later, duuuude."

)l(

Paul had to do a few little hops as he rushed to stuff his other leg into his jeans. Robbie sat up in the bed, the cover falling away from her breasts and . . . he ended up flat on his ass.

"Fuck it," he said, lifting his hips to do the work from down there as he watched her scramble to the far side of the mattress.

Seconds later, she appeared above him, wearing her hockey jersey like a mini dress and holding out her hand. He grabbed onto it and hauled himself up.

Her eyes were stretched wide as she handed him his shirt. "Where are you going?"

Oh, shit. She thought he was leaving and not coming back. He crushed her to him. "To get my stuff. Before you change your mind."

Robbie's face brightened, warming him up like a goddamned heat lamp, and he pressed his lips onto her mouth, a first for him. Never before had he kissed a woman after sex.

He sensed there would be a lot of firsts with her.

Moving in was definitely a big one.

Yes, the urge to get the hell out pulsed like tiny electrodes sending shock waves over his flesh, but he beat it back. He wanted to be with her, and it wasn't just about sex. The thought of lying with her at night, warm skin to warm skin, comforted him and helped ease away some of that panicky suffocation, that desperate need for his own space.

"The faster I go, the faster I'll get back," he whispered, kissing down her neck and sliding his hand under her shirt and up to her bare ass. A jolt of lust raced through him. He really did need to go if they were going to get any work done.

She followed him to the door.

The crooked five caught Paul's eye as he went to step outside. "I can bring some tools and fix that for you," he said, pointing out the irregularity.

"No!"

Shock stilled him.

"Sorry," she muttered. Her hand went up to brush along the numbers. "It had fallen off one day when I was at work, and the boy next door put it back up for me. The best he could anyway."

The friendly kid with the football. "Max."

Her eyes snapped to him. "Did I tell you about him?"

"No, I—"

"I must have." She shook her head as she wrapped her arms around her waist and grabbed onto her shirt with a grip that had her knuckles turning white. "Such a sad story."

Paul felt a shudder of dread go through him, stealing his breath. "Please don't tell me he's gone," he said hoarsely. Impossible. He'd just seen the kid, what, two weeks ago?

Confusion furrowed her brows. "He died last year."

END OF CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

What do you think of Angela Chilvati? A little sensitive, isn't she?🥴 Maybe that comes from having Gus as a brother.

Paul surprised most of you, didn't he, with his willingness to move in😬

And Max . . . so sad, I know. What do you make of that?😱

Dedicated to @TulipTuesday who has been with me a long time, doing the slow read, coming back for each chapter. Thank you so much! I appreciate your company, and your patience♥️

All votes ⭐️⭐️⭐️and comments 🗣🗣🗣are very much appreciated!