Mr Time Just Wait For Me Novels & Stories

You are not alone. “Are you here by your own free will?” he asked one last time. My heart beat so hard it hurt. Ryan’s fingers dug in harder. “Yes,” I whispered. Ryan exhaled, pleased. Mr. Smith didn’t look pleased at all. He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Ryan clapped his hands once, sharply, the sound cutting through the air like a slap. “Now, what are you waiting for?” he said, teeth bared in a smile. He gestured toward Mr. Smith like this was all some performance for his entertainment.

"Great! Could you please wait for a few minutes? Mr. Ryan just finished a meeting. He'll be here shortly." "Sure," we said in unison. "Please, take a seat We walked toward the sofa. I got distracted as we passed a corridor with two doors on each side and a large door at the end, where four men were standing. I could only see the face of one of them, as the others were partly turned to the side or had their backs to me. Mr. Ryan must have been among them, not the one whose face I could see, as he didn't look almost thirty years old; he must have been over sixty

The crowd parted for him as if by instinct, everyone eager to catch a glimpse of the famous CEO. I was intrigued, of course. Who wouldn’t be? But I had work to do. I turned back to the meeting room, determined not to let the chaos distract me. Marcus was still a no-show, but I wasn’t going to let that ruin my evening. I started to pack up my things, deciding to leave a note for him in case he showed up later.

R: Just your company. And that's when I can't help the loud squeal I let loose with while beating my feet against the floorboard. Do I look like an idiot? Yes. Do I care? Not at all. S: Be there in about an hour and a half, depending on traffic. R: We'll be waiting. This shitty day? Just turned right the fuck around. * * *

Locking her phone, she looked up at the receptionist. “Can I go in now?” she asked. The receptionist hesitated. “Mr. Jones is still in a meeting, ma’am. Could you please wait a bit longer?” The hesitation in her tone and the way she actively avoided Mirena's eyes didn’t go unnoticed. Mirena studied her carefully. “How long?” she asked. The receptionist flashed a reluctant smile. “I’ll let you know shortly, ma’am.” She offered a half bow and returned to her computer.

"Sophie, do you have any ideas?" "I don't. We just have to wait f-", I pause mid-sentence as Mr. Min holds up a palm and looks up from his screen with wide eyes that were bright with some sort of 'eureka' moment he just had. "We don't- we don't need to wait anymore. Let's go see Nathan's mom, I have the address."

I wanted this to be over but it was far from that. Don’t be disappointed Rita, Miron will find a way out of this. We just have to wait. All I am hoping is that would not be so long. Well that depends on how and when John will want to receive them. I pray that he would soon so we can have a backup.

I say quite loudly, hoping to grab his attention. "Hello, I'll be with you in a second," he responds, not looking up from the papers in front of him. I huff slightly, I'm a very impatient person and waiting around like this is not my forte. I start tapping my foot as the minutes seem to drag into hours. My fingers soon join in with the tapping but it still doesn't make the time pass any faster. "Are you done yet?" I ask innocently. "It's only been three minutes," mumbles Mr Murray as he keeps writing.

"Because I spent thirty years waiting for my father and fifteen years waiting for an apology and neither of those things came. I'm done waiting for things from people who only give them when they have no other choice." I looked at him. He said it evenly, the way he said most things, but underneath it was something old and tired that I had heard before, the night he told me about Connecticut, about the schedules and the correct behavior and growing up in a house that was a performance. "Good," I said simply. He looked at me. "You're allowed to be done," I said. "That's not coldness. That's just knowing when something is finished." He was quiet for a moment.

"Our engagement party is going to be bigger than anything you saw tonight." There it was again: next time. For ten years I'd followed him, from a little border town all the way to the Sinclair estate, surviving one hail of bullets after another and collecting more scars than I could count. And all I ever got in return was next time. I looked up at him and said, quietly, "But I can't wait for next time." His brow creased. "My father is very sick." "I want him to see my happiness for himself, within the week. So he won't have any regrets."