Chapter Ninety-Five
McKinley Stewart was exhausted. His flight to Los Angeles had been delayed twice, and there had been a miscommunication at the Bel-Air Hotel, leaving him without a room for the first night of his stay. He thought about asking his admin, Avery, to make alternate arrangements for him. Instead, he decided he could figure out a plan after looking at the office to evaluate what damage had occurred during the fire.
Making matters worse, there was a couple in the Sky Club who were fooling around in the back corner of the quiet area. At first, they were just getting handsy and giggling. Eventually, the woman’s head disappeared under their blanket, and the man looked like he was having an out-of-body experience. He recognized the exact moment of orgasm as the guy’s face tensed up and then took on a goofy-as-fuck look. Mac couldn’t be sure if he was annoyed because it was distracting him from his work or if he was jealous because a Grace-style, incredible deep-throat blow job would have helped alleviate his stress and staved off the mild headache forming at the base of his neck. Fortunately, their flight left before his, making the rest of his wait more tolerable.
By the time he arrived at the location of the L.A. Headquarters, his head was throbbing. Determined to fight through it, he ignored the fact that he’d blown off Grace’s insistence that he bring his pain meds. He might be able to dig out some Ibuprofen, but that would have to wait. He had work to do.
The fire had obliterated most of the building. It would need to be gutted and completely rebuilt. It would take months, and he’d have to relocate Daniella’s group in the interim. That would mean securing new office furniture or finding a furnished office building. It would also mean buying computers, other office equipment, and the whole nine yards. It was disheartening to see the remnants of people’s personal items scattered about, charred, and water-damaged beyond recognition in some instances.
“You okay, boss?” Miguel, the chauffeur, asked.
“What a clusterfuck!” Mac said, exasperated by the work ahead of him. Christ, he wished he’d let Grace come along. She was better at handling shit like this.
“I had hoped there would be some salvageable parts, but everything is trashed,” Mac said miserably. “It’s a fucking miracle that everyone got out of the building safely. I’m grateful for that. But holy fucking hell, this is a nightmare.
Miguel nodded but said nothing. What was there to say in a situation like this that wouldn’t sound trite? Better to be quiet and await Mac’s next direction.
After a few moments, Mac shook his head and said, “Well, let’s get moving. Standing here isn’t going to help anything. I’ll contact Daniella and see if she’s available to meet me to discuss a game plan. She’d better be available since it’s a fucking workday.”
Miguel could see his boss was more than just a little upset. He wished he could say or do something that would be useful. Then he had an idea.
“Is Miss Grace joining you later?” Miguel asked in the politest voice he could muster.
“No, she’s not. I told her to stay home because I’m a fucking moron and thought I could handle this by myself,” Mac snipped.
“To be fair, sir, you couldn’t have known the extent of the damage until you saw it yourself, in person. I’m sure Miss Grace would fly out here if you asked her to; she wouldn’t want you to bear this burden alone,” Miguel suggested.
“Somehow, I managed to run my company before Grace. She’s got enough on her plate with the New York office, wrangling a toddler, and dealing with morning sickness. She’s expecting again. So, no, I’m not gonna ask Grace to fly out; I’ll figure out what needs to happen and make it so.
Daniella was, indeed, available. Although she’d told the rest of the staff to take the next two days off—with pay—until she knew where to have them report, she was working, or doing her best to do so, from home. She suggested it would be easiest to meet at her place since she had her laptop and printer hooked up there.
Miguel dropped Mac off and said, “Just text me when you’re ready for me to pick you up, sir.”
“Thanks, Miguel,” Mac said, trying to rein in his foul mood. “I’m sorry I’ve been less than cordial today. I appreciate you very much.”
“It’s my pleasure to help, sir.”
“Mind if I leave my bag in the car?”
“Not at all, sir.”
“Thanks. I’ll contact you later once I’ve met with Dani and have some sense of what I’m doing and where I’m staying tonight.”
“Yes, sir.”
Miguel drove off and pondered whether contacting Grace himself would be appropriate. He decided that it might be better for him to do nothing. The last thing he wanted was to irk Mr. Stewart when he was distraught, even if he thought his boss was foolishly stubborn for not asking his very competent wife to come and be by his side.
Meanwhile, in New York, Grace waited to hear from Mac. She knew his plan was to hit the ground running, but she was starting to worry that he hadn’t called or texted her. She sent him a text, choosing her words carefully, not wanting to come off sounding like a shrew.
Hey baby! Miss you already. Hope your flight was decent. Let me know if I can be of any help on my end. Love you!
She slipped her phone into her pocket, knowing it might be a while before her very busy husband responded. Still, she kept checking periodically, hoping for some word of how things were going.
When she was done working for the day, DJ and Merlin kept her company in the Media room as they binge-watched episodes of Bluey. Eventually, she felt her eyelids getting heavy and realized it was time to get DJ ready for bed. She headed toward the stairs but decided she was too tired to walk up that many flights with the baby on her hip. She scooped up the cat with her free arm and took the elevator instead.
Once DJ was down for the night, Grace glanced at her phone. Still no response from Mac. It wasn’t like him to ignore text messages. Shrugging, she stripped off her clothes and slipped on one of Mac’s T-shirts and a pair of yoga pants. Climbing into bed with her phone and a trashy romance novel, she planned to read until she heard from her wayward husband.
However, it wasn’t long before Grace’s libido shifted into high gear. As a naïve ingenue was being ravaged by a rugged cowboy, she found her fingers tracing circles around her nipples. As the fictional action heated up, those fingers moved under the covers and into her dripping pussy. Her hand emulated the rancher's vigorous thrusts as he stole the sweet, young thing’s innocence and made her a woman.
Grace found herself so aroused that she tossed the book aside and focused on her own pleasure. As one hand continued impaling her pussy, the fingers of the other hand played deftly with her clit until her back arched and her body trembled fiercely. She lay still for a moment, basking in the glow of much-needed release.
Merlin gave a look of disgust, turned around three times, and settled down at the foot of the bed. Grace went to clean up in the bathroom and then checked her phone. Still no text from Mac. She sighed. While the orgasm had been a lovely distraction, she realized that until she heard from her husband, sleep would elude her.
Chapter Ninety-Six
After spending a few hours with Daniella, figuring out what needed to happen first and what the next steps would be, he called around to several hotels. With a convention in town and no available rooms to be found for the night, Mac was beyond frustrated.
“How can there not be any damn rooms anywhere?” he growled.
“I thought you were staying at the Bel Air. What happened?” Daniella asked.
“Somebody fucked up the reservation and made it for starting tomorrow. I said I’d take a different room for tonight, whatever they had open, and they said the hotel was at full capacity. So, I checked with a bunch of other places and got the same fuckin’ response!”
Mac exasperatedly ran a hand through his thick, dark hair and felt his brain throbbing.
“You’re welcome to stay here for the night. I have a spare room, but it’s got a tiny bed. With your height, why don’t you take my room, and I will sleep in the guest bed?”
“I can’t put you out like that, Dani. I can sleep in a small bed for one night.”
“Nonsense. It’s not a problem for me. Don’t be stubborn, McKinley.”
With extreme fatigue and excruciating head pain double-teaming him, Mac relented.
“Thanks, Dani; I appreciate your hospitality.”
“Of course! Let me just get my stuff out of my room; then it’s all yours.”
“Fuck! Miguel has my bag. What else could go wrong today?”
Grabbing his phone from his back pocket, he saw a text from Grace—from hours ago. He heaved a heavy sigh. She had left him a sweet message that he’d unintentionally ignored. He started to reply and then decided she was probably asleep by now, and he didn’t want to wake her. Instead, he fired off a text to Miguel.
Hey, I’ll be staying at Daniella’s tonight. Can you come around seven tomorrow morning and bring my bag?
Miguel’s response was quick.
I can bring your bag tonight if you prefer. Otherwise, I will be there promptly at seven.
Mac’s first instinct was to wait until morning. But his head hurt so fucking bad, and he knew he’d never sleep without at least taking the Ibuprofen he was sure he’d find in his pack. He could ask Dani if she had some, but his pride prevented him from the possibility of appearing weak.
If it’s not too much trouble, tonight would be great.
I’m on my way, sir.
Much appreciated.
When he returned to the living room, Dani was sitting on the couch in a pair of cutoff shorts and a tank top. He’d never seen her in anything besides work attire, and admittedly, it caught him off guard. As did her suggestion that he take off his clothes.
“I’m sure you’d be more comfortable stripping down to a T-shirt and boxers,” Dani said. “It won’t bother me.”
“Thanks, but Miguel is bringing my bag here,” he replied, trying to look anywhere but at her nipples that poked through the tank top. With no bra, she was spilling out of the top, which was disconcerting.
“I ordered a pizza. I figured we didn’t eat dinner, and I have nothing to cook here. I hope you like pepperoni.”
“Yes, that sounds great, thanks.”
“Meanwhile, how about a beer?” Dani asked, seemingly oblivious to her boss’s current discomfort.
“Actually, I’d take a Coke if you have one.” Maybe some caffeine would take the edge off the feeling that his brain was being squeezed.
“That’ll keep you awake. Let me get you some wine or something harder.”
“Just a Coke, Dani!” he snapped. Realizing she was just trying to be hospitable, he quickly added. “Sorry, I’m just not in the mood for alcohol right now. It’s been a fucked-up day, and I still need to think clearly.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
Dani’s ass wiggled as she sashayed into the kitchen. Mac couldn’t decide if she was simply obtuse or trying to be seductive. He chalked it up to his not feeling well and figured he was overthinking things. She had never been anything but professional with him in the past, and she was doing him a favor by giving him a place to stay for the night.
She returned shortly with a couple of Cokes and saw Mac leaning forward, his elbows propped on his knees and his head down.
“Are you okay?”
He sat up and said, “I just waited too long to eat something. Plus, it occurs to me that I’ve been up for over twenty hours.”
The doorbell rang, and Dani hurried over to answer the door, her voluptuous breasts bouncing shamelessly as she moved. When she opened it, both Miguel and the pizza delivery guy stood waiting for her, their mouths gaping open as her nipples stood up like party hats.
At that moment, Dani realized she should probably have grabbed her bathrobe. Either Mac truly didn’t feel good, or he was too much of a gentleman to call her out on her inappropriate choice of nighttime wear. She felt embarrassed, but there wasn’t much she could do about it now.
She invited both men in, indicating where to put the pie as she dug a tip out of her purse. As she made the delivery man’s night, in more ways than one, Miguel crossed the room to give Mac his bag.
“Is there anything else I can get for you, sir? Do you still want me here in the morning?”
“No, I’m all set now that I have my bag. I really appreciate you offering to bring it to me tonight. I wouldn’t have been able to sleep without, um, brushing my teeth,” Mac stopped himself from blurting out that his brain felt like it was on fire.
Digging through his bag, Mac nearly wept with relief when he spied the Diclofenac bottle in the duffle's side pocket that Grace must have slipped in there when he wasn’t looking. He grabbed the medication as inconspicuously as possible and headed to the bathroom.
