112. Maddox

ONE HUNDRED TWELVE

Standing on the parking ramp below the office, I check my phone again as I wait for the elevator.

Hannah replied to my good-morning text when I first got up, but I sent another one before I left the house asking if she'd like to sneak away for lunch today since it's been almost a week since we've seen each other. And now it's been— I tap my screen again— twenty-eight minutes, and she hasn't replied.

The elevator dings, and as soon as the doors slide open, I step in.

This week away has solidified my plan.

I need Hannah closer.

My life isn't completely chaotic, but MinneSolar isn't the only company I own, and it's hardly my only investment. Add on appearances and brand deals, and I'm busier than I really want to be. Which means I travel. Which means I'm not at home every night. Which means the nights I am at home, I don't want to be alone.

I check my phone again.

Nothing.

Even worse than the now thirty minutes is the fact that Hannah wouldn't let me come over last night.

Sure, it was late on a Sunday night when my flight landed, but all I needed was a hug. Maybe to hold her while she slept. But no. She told me she'd "see me tomorrow." Well, it's tomorrow, and the first thing I'm going to do is see my Hannah.

The elevator finally stops on my floor, and I step out.

Maybe I should go to my office first or try to run into Hannah in the break room, but I can't wait that long.

Her office door is pretty much always open. I'll walk past and happen to see her at her desk. I'll even stay in the doorway so it's not inappropriate. And then I'll change the company policy and write a fucking press release letting everyone know she's mine.

My steps slow as I near her door.

Her closed door.

I slow even more.

There's no way I beat her here.

She always gets here before me.

She —

A terrible feeling hits me in the gut.

What if something happened to her on her drive in?

I almost sprint back down to my car, my hand already pulling my phone out of my pocket, but then I see it.

The blank door.

The little piece of plastic with her name etched into it is gone.

"What…?"

I take the final stride and grip the door handle.

Shoving it open, I step into Hannah's office and freeze.

It's empty.

Not just empty, as in no one is in here. Empty, as in the shelves are empty.

The calendar on the wall is gone. The pen cup, the thin blanket that's always on the back of her chair, the coaster she always set her coffee mug on that must've been made by Chelsea years ago… it's all gone.

"What the fuck?"

I spin around and nearly crash into someone as I stride out of her office.

I don't bother recalling his name; I just point at the office behind me. "Where is she?"

The man's eyes widen.

I jab the air again. "Where. Is. She?"

He looks anywhere but at me. "Hannah was, uh, let go."

Let. Go.

Hannah was let go.

My girl. My Bunny, was fucking fired. From my own fucking company.

"When?" I hardly recognize my voice.

"F-Friday."

The man jumps back, and I let my long strides lead me to the corporate offices.

There's a light on in Brenda's office, and I turn toward it.

She's the head of HR. She would've been the one to do this.

I don't knock. I just step directly into her office.

She startles, coffee sloshing over the rim of her mug onto her desk. "Oh, um, M-Mr. Lovelace."

So it's Mr. Lovelace and not Maddox today. How telling.

Tension rolls through my body, and I have to remind myself I'm at a place of work.

But it's my place of work.

I stare down at her for a long second, trying to decide what words to use, when hurried steps sound outside the door.

Dana, my CEO, appears in the doorway. "Maddox, I just heard."

I slowly turn to her, then back to Brenda. "She"— I point to the CEO— "just heard. I"— I point to myself— "just heard. And you"— I point to Brenda— "better start talking."

She hesitates.

"Maddox." Dana tries to intervene.

"Now," I snap out.

Brenda wipes the coffee off her hands onto her lap. "I— our hands were tied. We were given evidence of fraternization, and the policy clearly states…"

She trails off when I take a step closer to the desk.

"Your hands were tied," I repeat back to her. "Do you plan to fire me too? From my own fucking company."

"No. No, we wouldn't—"

I cut her off, knowing anything she says will just piss me off more. "You got evidence. When?"

"W-Wednesday."

"What sort of evidence?" Dana asks, now standing at my side.

Brenda fumbles with her mouse as she clicks on something on her screen. "Pictures."

I storm around her desk so I can see her computer. "You got pictures on Wednesday and fired Hannah Friday without ever coming to me or Dana?"

Dana is usually very levelheaded, but even she has her hands fisted at her sides. "That's not how we do things here."

"You were both gone!" Brenda's voice has gone shrill.

"So you decided to take unilateral action?" Dana asks, incredulous.

"Hannah's manager agreed. She was the one to actually say it." Brenda throws the other woman under the bus.

Hannah was fired on Friday.

She was confronted by this woman and her boss over her relationship with me when she was alone.

I clench my jaw.

Brenda opens a folder on her desktop, then slides her chair back.

I crowd into the space.

It's a folder of photographs.

I click on the first one.

And the second.

And the next and the next and the next.

Every muscle in my body is tight.

I don't care that we were caught.

I don't care that everyone can see my love for Hannah in each and every one of these photos.

What I do care about is the fact that someone followed us.

They saw us, took photos of us, and followed us to my fucking car.

"Who?" I growl the question.

"It was anonymous," Brenda answers.

I straighten to my full height but keep my eyes on the computer screen. I keep my eyes on the photo of us against my car. The photo where Hannah is looking at me like she can't live without me.

I keep my eyes on that photo because I know how she feels.

"Do you really want me to think you're this incompetent?" I ask quietly. "Tell me who sent the photos."

"They were sent to us from an outside email."

"Tell me the name, or I'll get the name myself." I step back from the computer and point at the screen. "But you're sending me that email either way."

She gives me a name.

And I stride out of the office.

"Maddox!" Dana calls after me, but I don't slow down.

He's a fucking dead man.

My hands open and close, making fists and releasing them.

Friday. This happened Friday, and Hannah didn't tell me.

She didn't tell me when we texted that day. She didn't mention it during any of the calls we had over the weekend. She didn't tell me when we ate dinner together Saturday night on a video call.

She didn't tell me.

Her beautiful face flashes in my mind, and that's all it takes to calm any anger directed at her.

Because her eyes say it all. They hold all her history. All her struggles. All her triumphs.

Of course she wouldn't tell me. She'd want to take care of it herself.

She's always had to take care of everything herself.

Not anymore.

Not now that she has me.

It's my turn to take care of things.

And I'm starting with this prick.

Over the cubicles, I can see him.

He's leaning against one of the low walls, crowding into a woman's space. And she doesn't look thrilled about him being there.

Guilt crawls up my throat.

I never should've had a piece of shit like this working at my company.

But that changes now.

"Brandon!" His name booms out of me.

He stumbles back, almost tripping, as his eyes franticly search until they land on me.

I point a finger at him. "You."

He backs up more until he's on the other side of the cubicle, in the wide walkway between the workstations and the bathroom.

I cut through the cubicles, aiming directly for him.

Brandon finally grows a pair and stops retreating.

He crosses his arms over his chest. "You can't fire me. I already talked to my lawyer."

I scoff. "Lawyer. I'd bet ten grand your lawyer is a fucking Google search."

His jaw clenches, and I know I'm right.

I step closer, and his arm muscles twitch.

This guy is so close to self-destructing. Just a nudge away.

I step even closer, putting our chests inches apart. Though I'm substantially bigger, so I have to look down at him.

"You can't fire me." He says it again like that will make it more true.

I tip my head to the side and look down at him like I've never seen his species before. "You sure about that?"

"I was just following the rules. I wasn't the one fucking—"

"Watch your mouth," I snap.

He presses his lips together so tightly they turn white.

"You weren't following the rules." I shake my head like I'm disappointed I have to explain this. "Do you think you're a big man, getting a woman fired? Over what? Jealousy?"

"I'm not jealous."

I laugh. "No, of course you're not. You followed us out of a restaurant to a dark parking lot because you were following the rules."

Whispers start from the cubicles behind me, and Brandon glances around, noticing our audience.

He drops his arms, his hands fisting at his sides.

"Yeah, okay. Make me sound like the bad guy for taking a few photos when you're the one out in public, with your hands all over Hannah. Your employee." He raises his voice as he talks.

I nod. "Yeah, my hands were all over her. Because she's mine. She's always been mine. And that's what bothers you, isn't it?" I spread my arms, giving off the appearance of being defenseless. "You wanted her. You've been bothering her since day one, but she never gave you the time of day. Did she?"

"You don't know what you're talking about," he hisses.

I can see the hatred in his eyes, and I'm not sure if it's directed at me or Hannah, but either way, I don't like it.

"You know that day when you crashed your car, and I had to give her a ride home?" I smirk. "That was the first time she kissed me."

He swings at me.

It's clumsy and slow and exactly the type of punch I'd expect from a man like Brandon.

Still quicker than the average man, I jerk my arm up and deflect his fist inward, causing him to hit himself in the face.

There's a crunch. And blood gushes from his nose. As his expression changes, I shift my weight to one foot and kick the other out and across, sweeping his feet out from underneath him.

Brandon slams to the ground.

He clutches at his nose with one hand, clawing at the industrial carpet beneath him with the other as he tries to scramble away from me.

"Brandon, I need you to pay attention."

He scoots back another few inches.

"You're fired." I step forward so I'm standing over him. "And I'll consult with my lawyers about pressing assault charges."

He shakes his head, blood dripping down his chin. "N-no."

I nod. "Yes. In fact, I have some buddies in the media who I'm sure would love to do a story on the guy who took a swing at Mad Dog Maddox." I use the famous version of my name. "And when they find out that the guy who tried to hit me was also stalking my girlfriend…"

"I wasn't stalking!" Brandon's head bumps into the bathroom door, and he shuffles into a sitting position.

I sigh. "That's not what the headlines will say. Especially when they find out about the restraining order Hannah is going to take out against you."

"What?" His eyes widen.

I nod slowly. "You're gonna have a hell of a time getting hired anywhere after that."

"You can't do that!" he screeches.

I think about all the times Hannah looked uncomfortable around him.

I think about all the years she put up with him because no one helped her.

I think of the woman whose cubicle he was just in.

I bend down, making sure he can hear me. "I can. And I will. And you're lucky I'm stopping there. Now get the fuck out of my building."

Brandon scrambles to his feet, rage and fear coating his features.

When he opens his mouth to speak, I take another step toward him. And he runs.

I catch the gaze of Donut Guy from across the way. He's watching me with a grin on his face.

I lift my chin toward Brandon as he disappears around the corner toward the elevator.

Donut Guy taps two fingers to his forehead, then follows to make sure Brandon leaves like he's supposed to.

There's one clap.

Then another.

And a second later, the office bursts into a round of applause, everyone standing in their cubicles or leaning out of offices, having watched the spectacle unfold.

I shake my head as I turn around, finding Dana behind me like I expected.

She's trying not to smile. "Well, that was… dramatic."

"That was overdue." I ignore the murmurs and grinning faces of the employees around us. "Have his things delivered to his address on file. He's no longer allowed on the property. I'll let security know on my way out." With that, I turn on my heels and stride in the direction Brandon went.

"Where are you going?" Dana calls after me, a smile in her voice.

"To get my girl," I call back.

And this time, when the office erupts in applause, I smile.