Off The Clock Book Novels & Stories

The CEO’s Midnight Rule Chapter 1 The clock on Lena Hart’s computer read 12:47 a.m. when she finally leaned back in her chair and let out a long breath. The marketing floor of Voss Enterprises was completely dark except for the single lamp on her desk and the soft blue glow of her monitor. Everyone else had left hours ago. Only the cleaning crew and the security guard downstairs knew she was still here, and even they probably thought she was crazy.

“Teach me how to play the part of a 'normal man.'” The grandfather clock in the corner chimed. Two o'clock. The countdown had begun.

The mechanical ticking of the digital clock on the mahogany desk felt less like a standard tracking of time and more like a heavy, metronomic count down toward an absolute corporate execution. It was exactly 8:53 AM on Monday morning. The narrow, cold beam of high-altitude winter light that managed to slice through the heavy motorized velvet drapes had crawled further across the dark grain of the timber, illuminating the rigid gray ink strings of Ava Osborn’s bound hundred-page ledger like a permanent legal indictment. Inside the sealed perimeter of the study, the air remained entirely frozen, trapped in a predatory silence that completely choked out the domestic noise of the luxury penthous

answer had ruined their brand. It was peaceful. Too peaceful. Because when it was peaceful, I forgot what time it was. I checked the clock and my stomach dropped. 7:58. Two minutes until Drew. I rinsed my hands fast and started packing my kit like my life depended on it. Jace noticed instantly. “He’s coming.” “Yep,” I said. “And he’s going to ask if I stayed ‘for conversation.’” Jace’s jaw tightened. “You stayed because we asked.”

Charlie finally decided that she would just take the batteries out but still leave it on the wall even if it didn’t go with the aesthetic of her office- the big brown ugly clock seemed like it belonged right there. Just like an oddball- just like her in the FBI in a weird way. Maybe that was why she’d grown so attached to the clock. It could get a little loud, didn’t fit where it was but somehow seemed to be in the right place. The vibration on her phone which came as a result of Mr. Black’s text took her out of her musings. That was still happening, the date with Mr. Maddox Black. She couldn’t help blushing a little at the thought of him.

Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock, tick. "Jefferson.." I need to get away. "Jefferson, calm down." The room. It's spinning. Tick, tock, tick, tock.. "I told you we needed to wait! Jefferson. Baby. Look at me." Why is that fucking clock so loud? Someone turn it off! Tick, tock, tick, tock.. "Jefferson? Baby?" Turn off that fucking clock! Tick, tock, tick, tock... Turn the damn thing off!

"There's no clock there. But I saw the clock in your office." Hazel suddenly turned sharply at the man. And the next Calvin words were the ones Hazel really didn't want to hear right now. "I broke into your office at one o'clock."

Feet fast enough to blur, like his body was always just ahead of his thoughts. Too fast. Too reckless. Too goddamn young. Liam crossed his arms tighter, narrowing his eyes as Noah sprinted past the back line with a grin that didn’t belong here, not in this league, not on a rookie. “Watch the offside!” Liam barked, sharp and sudden. Noah barely turned his head. Just lifted a hand in a lazy, cocky little salute like he’d heard the command and decided it didn’t apply to him. Liam exhaled through his nose. He knew boys like that. He used to be one.

Chapter 18 **Christiana’s POV** The clock on my desk ticked past 7:15 p.m., loud and judgmental like it was personally offended I was still here at work. Everyone else had clocked out hours ago, their chairs abandoned like they were fleeing a crime scene. The office was dead quiet and a little too spooky for my liking, but I have to do what I have to do. I never thought that being alone in a department in a big building as this could make me feel like I’m being watched by ghosts, it was that spooky.

He looked at his watch, the small black hand points to three, the big one to thirty. - Why do I look at the clock? I already know perfectly well that it's half past four now, oh, these habits. Joints crunched. Conrod finished all his work at work, he wrote three articles when his other colleagues did not even finish one. I gave my book to circulation, they promised to do it very quickly, we'll see. Conrod packed a laptop into a bag, turned off the working computer, immediately cutting off the power to the surge protector. At the exit, the taxi he called half an hour ago was already waiting for him.