Page 20 of Obey

"I'll make sure he calls you back before the end of the day," Sloane promises.

"You do that, sweetheart. And tell him to eat something before he works himself into an early grave."

"My thoughts exactly."

Before I can object, she ends the call.

I stare at her. "Did you just hang up on one of our distributors?"

"No. I politely concluded a conversation with one of our distributors. There's a difference."

"Sloane—"

"And now you're going to eat your lunch." I watch in disbelief as she unplugs every cord connected to my conference phone, gathers them up, and tucks the entire damn thing beneath her arm. "This comes back when you've finished. Not before."

Then she marches out of my office with my phone like she hasn't just committed an act of mutiny.

Fine. If I can't make calls, I can still work.

I turn back to my computer, pulling up the report I'd abandoned when Wallace called. I've barely explained the first corrections to Elias and Jace when Sloane appears in the doorway again.

"Absolutely not."

"Ms. Harper—"

"Save your work."

I stare at her. "Excuse me?"

"Your work, Nathaniel. Save it."

Jace makes a strangled noise behind her, already fighting another laugh.

"I don't recall asking for your assistance with my computer."

"And I didn't walk fifteen minutes up the street to get you food so it can get cold. Yet here we are."

I save the report, mostly because I'm curious how far she's prepared to take this nonsense.

Apparently, all the fucking way.

Sloane reaches past me, shuts down the computer, waiting until the screen goes black before crawling beneath the desk.

A moment later, she pops up with my power cord dangling from her fingers. Jace loses it.

"Enjoy your break, Mr. Blackwell." she beams, all teeth.

I look from the cord to her face, struggling to remember the last time someone had the audacity to do something this ridiculous in my office.

"You do realize I can have you fired?"

"Then I suggest you eat before you start the paperwork. Don't want you blacking out on the third question."

"He's not firing you," Elias says, cutting off my reprimand as he rises from his chair.

My head snaps to him. “Excuse me?”

“You skipped breakfast,” he says calmly, like we’re discussing the weather instead of mutiny. “Again.”