Off The Clock Book Novels & Stories

Chapter 11: The Meeting The clock on Ethan's office wall ticked loudly in the oppressive silence, a reminder that time was slipping away. He sat at his desk, hands steepled in front of his face, staring at the documents spread before him as if they held the secrets to the universe. *Tomorrow,* he thought, *the meeting with Spring Entertainment. Olivia.*

Her hands on the table were the hands of someone who had been using them for almost a century, marked by time in the specific way that meant a full life rather than a diminished one. She looked at me with the quality of attention the book had told me she was capable of. Complete and precise and very still. "You read my book," she said. "Six times," I said. Something moved in her face. Pride, or its direction. "Did it help." "Yes," I said. "The clock detail. Seventeen minutes slow. That made it real." She nodded. "That's why I put it in. Everything else in that chapter felt like it could be abstracted. The clock was specific. Specific things stay with you when the abstract dissolves under pre

It was like he was trying to remember where he was. “What time is it?” he asked. Wilkes took a quick glance at his wristwatch. “6:34,” he said. “If you don't get up now, when you finally do, the day's activities will be twice as difficult to gi through.” Harold grunted as he got on his feet. He knew that was true. He looked around the room as if searching for something. “Looking for anything?” Wilkes asked. “Yeah, yeah,” Harold drawled. “The waffles. I'm really hungry.”

Loaded like a packhorse, I went back to the kitchen and set about filling the last free space on the clothes horse with the wet clothes from the machine. I was just about to shake out a T-shirt that I couldn't tell which of the brothers it was when I heard the key on the front door. Immediately I spun around to look at the old wall clock above the sideboard. Shortly after five. As far as I knew, there was only one other person besides Nick who had free access to this apartment, but he always worked late into the evening. Was there maybe someone else I didn't know about? For example this Norbert, whose name had been mentioned a few times? I didn't believe in it. Besides, Reese didn't have to

Ethan's POV: The clock on my screen read 10:47 PM. I'd stopped caring about the time around 9. The office had emptied hours ago — that particular kind of silence that falls over a building when everyone with a normal life has gone home to it. The cleaning staff had come and gone. The lights in the corridor outside had dimmed to their night setting, casting everything in that flat, institutional glow that made the whole floor look like the inside of someone's headache.

Chapter 1: Overtime The knock on my office door came at 8:47 p.m. I was still at my desk on the 42nd floor, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up, staring at the same quarterly projections I’d been pretending to review for the last hour. Claire was at her sister’s place for the weekend—some girls’ trip thing she’d planned months ago. The house would be empty when I got home. Again. I told myself I didn’t mind the quiet. I told myself a lot of things these days.

that's what pulls us toward them. When I get to the apartment, I change into something more comfortable and make myself dinner as a way to kill time. Then I start watching a show on the living room couch. I check the clock every fifteen minutes, each time dragging longer. I stop paying attention to the TV altogether, so I pick up a book, not really reading what it says. Still, it's only nine twenty. —The more you stare at the clock and rush things, Demir, the slower time moves —I say to myself with a sigh.

It was the clock on the nightstand. But it wasn't moving forward. The second hand was twitching. Vibrating. Struggling to move past the second. And then, it stopped. Silence. Elion held his breath. And then, with a loud click, the hand moved. Backward. One second. And then forward again. Elion stared at the clock. "Seven," he whispered. And he knew, with a terrible certainty, that the countdown had begun.

“When you’re too busy living to notice the clock.” Strom, in a rare sighting out of tactical gear, stood near the patio doors in a crisp polo shirt, sipping a sparkling water. His watchful gaze was still present, but the tension in his shoulders was gone. He was no longer just the security chief; he was part of the family’s architecture. He approached Bella and presented her with a small, perfectly wrapped gift. She opened it with solemn care. Inside was a beautifully illustrated book: ‘Codes, Ciphers, and Secret Writing for Beginners.’

"No!! It wasn't supposed to go this way!! You are supposed to give me the money." I glanced at the door, then the clock. I have eight seconds until the time is up. I moved from one foot to another, thinking and weighing mu chances. I want this money. I need the money. "Three." The clock seemed to count down, mocking me. "I'll do it," I shouted. Zyran raised an eyebrow, "Do what?" "I'll suck you off." I rushed out, just as the clock chimed. "Alright then," he turned slightly so that his legs weren't under the table anymore but he could still focus on whatever he was reading.