Free Uncovering You: The Contract by Scarlett Edwards

long dials a key and growls an order. “Steven. See the delivery boy leaving right now? Have his building pass revoked.”
    I gape. Stonehart keeps speaking. “Wait. I thought of one better. Bar his company from accessing the building.” There’s a pause. “For how long? Indefinitely. FedEx can talk to me when they have an improved employee selection program in place.”
    The phone call gives me just enough time to compose myself. My heart’s still beating out of my chest. But nobody has to know that.
    I speak without thinking. “You’re going to restrict the entire company from serving this building because of that ?”
    Stonehart humors me with an answer. “A company’s employees are its most important asset. Their behavior reflects the organization as a whole. If FedEx decided that clown is good enough for them, it tells me they’re sloppy. I do not do business with sloppy organizations.”
    “What about the other tenants in the building?” I ask. “Won’t that piss them off?”
    When I hear myself and realize how improper my question is, my cheeks flame red again.
    Stonehart’s eyes darken, as if he cannot believe I asked that question. I open my mouth to apologize for my imprudence, hating the way my professional skills have evaporated into thin air. I’m cut off by a short, barked laugh.
    “Miss Ryder.” He sounds amused. “I believe that is the most direct and honest question anybody has dared ask me in weeks.” He takes my elbow again and leads me to the elevators. I have to take two quick steps to match one of his long strides.
    “Yes,” he continues. “They will be ‘pissed off.’ But the perk of owning a building—” he hits the elevator call button, “—is that you get to make executive decisions.” He gives me an unreadable glance as the doors open. “That is, at the risk of being questioned by inexperienced interns.”
    If that isn’t a loaded remark, I don’t know what is. I flush scarlet red for the third time since I’ve met him. I’ve never had a man throw me so off balance.
    The elevator is packed, for which I’m infinitely thankful. The trip up will give me some time to properly compose myself.
    Gratitude turns to panic when the crowd files out, meek as mice, when Stonehart steps in. None of the people waiting in the lobby follow us.
    The doors close. I’m alone in here with him. My heart’s beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings.
    He catches me staring. “Impressed?” he asks.
    “They know you,” I manage.
    His dark eyes flash with amusement. “Astute.”
    He swipes his left wrist in front of a card-sized scanner. A beep sounds, and the light to the highest floor turns on.
    “Biometric NFC chip,” he tells me in an off-handed way. “A tiny kernel I had implanted six months ago. Developed by the research team at ZilTech. One of my subsidiary firms. I understand you’ve dealt with them?”
    Stonehart’s phone buzzes before I can answer. He looks at it. “Excuse me.”
    I step half an inch back so I can admire his profile without being caught. He has one of those faces that only get better with age. I try not to eavesdrop on his conversation. I’m struck by the fact that sharing an elevator this way must be a very rare occasion for him.
    And so far, all you’ve done is make yourself look like an idiot , a tiny voice derides me.
    The elevator shoots up. Just three floors from our destination, it comes to a sudden halt. At the same moment, Stonehart drops the phone from his ear.
    The doors stay closed.
    He turns to me in a predatory move. “Going higher requires a retina scan,” he tells me. I can literally feel the reverberations from his rumbly voice. “The first swipe can be faked. This cannot. We have thirty seconds before the elevator goes back down.”
    He looks at me. I blink dumbly.
    “You should know,” he adds, “that I hate wasting my time.”
    He takes one step to me as the words sink in. Only the slimmest margin of air separates our