Infinite Rebate: I Get Richer Every Time I Spend

Gracie stepped out of the restroom and almost walked straight into him.

Durnik was already coming down the corridor, moving with the impatient energy of a man who had waited past his limit. The moment she saw him approaching the door, her stomach tightened. She had hoped for another minute. Maybe two. Enough time to put the call with Lucas fully behind her and reset the soft expression on her face.

She did not get it.

He had been waiting since the second she left his sight.

Back in that renovated office, her promise had stuck in his head and refused to leave. I’ll come over to you. The words had sounded sweet when she said them. Now they were driving him insane. He had paced. He had checked the time. He had told himself she would only be a moment. Every extra minute made the memory of her body in that chair sharper, and the fact that she was not in front of him yet more unbearable.

By the time he left his floor and headed toward the female restroom section, he was already past composure.

Several female employees saw him before Gracie did.

At first they only slowed down, surprised. The chairman did not usually appear in this part of the building without a reason, and the reason was rarely decent. A few of them exchanged looks. One younger staff member near the corner actually opened her mouth.

"Chairman... this is the female section."

The words were careful. Almost polite. A reminder, not a challenge.

Durnik turned on her so fast the corridor seemed to shrink.

"What did you say?"

The girl froze. "I only meant~"

"You’re fired."

The silence that followed was immediate and ugly.

She stared at him, stunned, as if waiting for the sentence to correct itself. It did not. Durnik did not raise his voice much higher than before, but the finality in it was enough. A couple of the other women looked away at once. One pressed her files tighter to her chest. Another pretended to check her phone just to avoid becoming the next target.

Nobody else tried to stop him.

They all knew him too well.

Most of the company was female, and that fact had never made the building safer. If anything, it made scenes like this more familiar. Durnik’s temper, Durnik’s appetite, Durnik’s habit of punishing anyone who got in the way of what he wanted ~ these things were not secrets. They were office weather. People survived by reading the air early and stepping out of the storm path.

Today the storm was walking straight toward the restrooms.

He continued down the corridor with his jaw locked and his hands flexing at his sides.

In his head, Gracie was still sitting in that expensive chair. Still calling him papi. Still promising she would come to him. The longer she made him wait, the more that promise started to feel like mockery. He had already let her dodge him upstairs. He had already watched her slip around furniture with sweet words and no contact. He had already accepted one delay after another.

He was done accepting them quietly.

By the time Durnik reached the hallway outside the female restroom, his patience had thinned to almost nothing. He was heading straight for the door, ready to look for her himself.

Then the restroom door opened from the inside.

Gracie stepped out and found him already right there in front of her.

For a second, Durnik stopped walking altogether.

The sight of her hit him harder than it should have.

The fitted suit.

The controlled posture.

All the heat he had been holding since she left the office surged back up at once. He was already close from walking straight toward the restroom door, and the last bit of distance disappeared in a few quick steps. His hand came up toward her waist, too familiar, like he expected her to let him pull her in right there in the hallway.

He was done waiting.

No more sweet delays.

No more watching her walk away with promises.

He wanted her attention, her body close, and he wanted it now.

Gracie saw it in his face before his fingers reached her ~ the impatience, the entitlement, the fact that he was no longer thinking about where they were.

Irritation flashed hard through her chest. After the call with Lucas, after the unanswered rings, after spending the morning performing for this man, the last thing she wanted was him grabbing at her in a hallway like she had been delivered on request. Her hand twitched at her side. For one dangerous second, she nearly slapped him.

She caught herself in time.

Barely.

What she did not catch in time was her voice.

"Are you insane?" The words came out sharp before she could stop them. "What the hell are you doing coming here like this?"

Durnik’s eyes widened slightly, more from surprise than shame.

A couple of remaining employees farther down the corridor stiffened and immediately found somewhere else to be. Nobody wanted to witness the chairman getting shouted at, and nobody wanted to witness what he might do afterward.

Gracie’s heart slammed once, hard.

Too far.

She forced the heat down and switched her tone so quickly it almost made her dizzy, softening her face, lowering her voice, putting the performance back in place before the damage could settle.

"Papi," she said, smoother now, though a thin edge still leaked under the sweetness. "I said I would come for you. Not you coming for me."

The correction landed in the air between them like a thin rope thrown over something that had nearly broken loose.

Durnik stared at her.

For a moment he looked caught between hunger and the residual shock of hearing her raise her voice at him. His hand, still half-raised toward her waist, slowly lowered again. He exhaled through his nose, visibly trying to reassert control over himself and the scene.

"You took too long," he said.

"I know." Gracie kept the soft expression fixed in place. "I’m here now."

His eyes moved over her again, less hidden than before. The corridor, the fired employee, the watching leftovers of staff ~ none of it seemed to matter to him as much as the fact that she was finally in front of him again.

"You’re done in there," he said. "Let’s head to the office."

He did not wait for her to lead.

He turned and walked in front of her, shoulders stiff, pace impatient, as if making her follow was the one form of control he still had left after failing to get his hands on her.

Gracie remained still for half a second longer, phone heavy in her pocket, the taste of the almost-slap still sitting sharply under her tongue.

Then she followed.

Not close enough to invite his hand.

Not far enough to provoke another scene.

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