Page 65 of Obey

The massive Maine Coon is sprawled across my chest like a judgmental weighted blanket, green eyes narrowed to slits as he lazily kneads his claws into my blanket. The second my phone buzzes with another text from Jace, he hisses at it like he personally disapproves of my taste in men.

Honestly? Fair.

I yank on a fresh pair of leggings and an oversized sweater, anything that makes me feel covered, and follow Cypress into the living room.

Trey walks through the front door a second later. Cypress takes one look at him and lets out the most disrespectful chirp I’ve ever heard.

Trey gasps. “See? This is why I don’t trust that oversized dust mop.”

Cypress stares at him blankly before turning his back completely and climbing into my lap instead. Trey points accusingly at the cat before finally looking at me. My hair is a mess, my eyes are puffy, and I look like I spent the night losing arguments to my own brain.

“Oh hell no,” he says, pointing back toward my room. “Go put something cute on. We’re getting mani and pedis, and then we’re going out tonight.”

I groan, collapsing deeper into the couch while Cypress instantly takes the opportunity to stretch across my stomach possessively. “Trey, no. I really don’t want to.”

He cuts me off, grabbing my wrist and hauling me upright while Cypress makes an offended sound and jumps down dramatically like Trey has committed a hate crime.

“Bitch, that pouting shit don’t work with me. It’s Friday, so we’re getting your ass out the house. And don’t test me. We both know I’m not above dragging you out in what you got on.”

My mouth falls open. “You can’t just—”

“Yes, I can.” He tosses my sneakers at me like a coach sick of excuses. “You can cry tomorrow. Tonight you’re putting on lip gloss, dragging that fine ass out the door, and letting me buy you two too many tequila sunrises.”

A weak laugh breaks out of me despite myself. He always knows when to push, when to pull, when to snap me out of the spiral.

“You’re bossy, you know that?” I mutter, shoving my feet into my sneakers.

“Mm-hm.” Trey slaps my ass lightly as I walk by. “And you love me for it. Now move.”

Behind him, Cypress lets out another annoyed chirp like he’s filing a formal complaint.

sixteen

Off the Clock

The office is silent except for Jace pacing the length of the conference room, tossing a stress ball into the air and catching it with one hand. God forbid he sit still while we finalize the launch budget.

We shouldn't be here this late on a Friday night. But after what happened with Sloane, the silence in our own home has become suffocating. Even Jace's restless energy is preferable to another evening spent wondering how to get our assistant to speak to us about something other than work.

Sloane couldn't get off the executive floor fast enough last night. Practically left scuff marks on her way out. Then she had the audacity to call in this morning with a migraine, which I'm calling bullshit on.

She's never missed a day since joining SOLAÉ. Even Jace, who champions work-life balance as though he invented the concept, stopped mid-quip when she didn't show up.

Elias explained what happened while Jace and I were occupied in the playroom. Apparently, our little assistant found the demonstration rather intriguing, and the possibility of having all three of us involved even more so.

We're halfway through the Q3 forecast when my phone vibrates against the conference table. Sloane's name fills the screen, and I abandon the spreadsheet without a second thought. She never calls outside business hours unless something requires my immediate attention.

“Sloane?”

There's a pause, followed by an indignant, slightly slurred declaration. “I have a complaint.”

I straighten in my chair. “Excuse me?”

“A formal complaint, Nathaniel. And don't you dare transfer me to HR, because I'm pretty sure you're the prooooblem.”

Jace catches his stress ball against his chest, his attention shifting toward me. I put the call on speaker and exchange a glance with Elias.

“What happened?” I ask.