Page 16 of His to Claim (The Owner’s Club #2)
Delilah
"One hour," Graham says, checking his watch theatrically. "Starting now."
He disappears around the corner before I can protest that this seems wildly unfair. The man knows every nook and cranny of this place while I've barely ventured beyond his office and the reception desk.
The office buzzes with normal workday energy around me. Phones ring in distant cubicles. Someone's heating lunch in a microwave somewhere—the smell of reheated pasta drifts through the air. A copy machine churns out documents.
Perfect cover for a ridiculous game of corporate hide-and-seek.
Time to hunt down my impossible boss.
His office would be too obvious anyway. When I peek inside, it's disappointingly empty.
His desk chair sits exactly where he left it and there's no sign of a grown man attempting to fold himself under that massive mahogany desk. I’m somewhat tempted to sit at his computer on the off chance he left it unlocked and rifle through his files, but I have a feeling that would be noticed pretty quickly.
Besides, when’s the last time I played hide-and-seek? Fifth grade maybe? The absurdity of it makes me smile despite myself. I make my way out of my office and walk down the hallway. I open the first supply closet door I see.
Also empty.
Movement to my left has me looking through the leaves of a ridiculously oversized potted plant.
I spot him through the glass walls of the conference room.
Sitting casually at the long table like he's waiting for a meeting to start.
Scrolling through his phone without a care in the world.
Our eyes meet across the space and he grins before giving me a little wave.
Then he bolts.
"Hey!" I rush toward the conference room but he's already gone, disappeared through the far door. "That's not how hide-and-seek works!"
But I'm laughing as I say it, caught up in the absurdity of chasing my boss through his own office building.
I follow the path he took, weaving between cubicles and around corners. Dodging people who are giving me strange looks and those that don’t seem to care at all, office drudgery having worn down their souls.
There—movement near the water cooler. I creep closer, trying to channel every stealth movie I've ever watched. Graham stands with his back to me, apparently fascinated by the motivational posters plastered on the nearby wall. Something about teamwork and eagles soaring.
I'm three steps away when he glances over his shoulder and shoots me that infuriating smirk.
"Catch me if you can, sweetheart."
He takes off again, leaving me standing there like an idiot.
This time he heads toward what looks like the marketing department, weaving through a maze of desks covered in colorful campaign mockups.
I lose sight of him somewhere near a wall covered in poster-sized photos of happy families enjoying various products.
"This is ridiculous," I mutter, but I keep searching.
Ten minutes later, I find him leaning against a filing cabinet in what appears to be the accounting department, casually flipping through a folder like he's actually working. The moment he sees me, he drops the folder and sprints toward the elevators.
"Graham!" But he's already around the corner.
I'm starting to understand why he wanted to play this game.
It's not about hiding and seeking—it's about giving me a tour without calling it that.
Every time I chase him, I discover another section of his empire.
The legal department with its intimidating law books.
The break room that's actually more like a small restaurant.
The IT cave where mysterious computer wizards apparently work their magic.
After my fifth failed attempt to corner him, I spot Leon emerging from an office marked "Human Resources."
"Leon!" I practically tackle the poor man. "Thank God you're here."
"Delilah?" He looks genuinely startled. "What are you doing running around the office? And why do you look like you've been chasing someone?"
"Because I have been chasing someone. Your insane boss, to be specific. We're playing hide-and-seek and he keeps cheating."
Leon's face transforms from confusion to amused understanding. "Ah. That explains the emails I've been getting about someone 'conducting reconnaissance missions' in various departments."
"Emails?"
"Graham's been sending updates. Apparently you've 'infiltrated the supply chain division' and 'conducted surveillance operations near the water cooler.'" Leon grins. "He's treating this like some kind of military exercise."
"Of course he is." I resist the urge to scream. "Will you help me? Maybe tell me his favorite hiding spots or something?"
Leon backs away like I've suggested he betray state secrets. "Oh no. I don't interfere with the boss's games. Last time I got involved in one of his schemes, I ended up having to learn salsa dancing for the company retreat. Still have nightmares about those lessons."
"Leon!"
"Sorry, Ms. Reeves. You're on your own." He disappears back into his office, still chuckling.
Fifteen more minutes of fruitless searching and I'm starting to map this place in my head.
Finance department: corner offices with impressive views and even more impressive door plaques.
Marketing: creative chaos with colorful everything.
Legal: serious mahogany furniture and enough law books to build a small fort.
IT: mysterious humming machines and the faint smell of energy drinks.
And Graham? He's like some kind of corporate ghost, appearing just long enough to wave before vanishing into another department.
I'm stomping down a hallway I swear didn't exist five minutes ago, thoroughly frustrated and completely turned around, when a door opens behind me. Before I can process what's happening, a hand wraps around my wrist and tugs me backward into darkness.
The door clicks shut and suddenly I'm pressed against a familiar chest, breathing in cologne that makes my brain go fuzzy.
"Found you," Graham murmurs against my ear, voice rich with satisfaction.
"You cheated!" I try to sound indignant but it comes out breathless instead. My heart hammers against my ribs for entirely different reasons now.
"Did I?" His hands settle on my waist, thumbs drawing lazy circles through my blouse. "I said I'd hide. Never said I'd stay hidden."
"That's not—" The words dissolve when his lips brush against my neck. "That's not how the game works."
"My office, my rules." His mouth curves against my skin. "Besides, look what you accomplished. Bet you know this place better than half my employees now."
He's not wrong. Somewhere between chasing him through marketing and getting lost near the elevators, I've memorized the layout of this entire floor. Every department, every hallway, every shortcut between divisions.
"You're impossible," I whisper, but I'm tilting my head to give him better access to my throat.
"And you're beautiful when you're frustrated." His hands slide up my sides, fingers tracing the outline of my ribs. “I think I’ll collect my prize now.”
Before I can protest, his mouth finds mine. The kiss starts gentle but quickly turns hungry, desperate.
His hands roam freely now, mapping the curves of my body through my clothes.
I arch against him, forgetting we're in what appears to be a supply closet in his office building.
Forgetting that anyone could walk by. Forgetting everything except the way he touches me like he's been thinking about this all day.
"I win," he breathes against my lips, and I taste his smile.
"You cheated," I repeat, but there's no heat in it anymore.
"Best kind of winning," he says, pulling me deeper into his arms.