Off The Clock Book Novels & Stories

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.

“The computers are all synced. Computer time is the same throughout the office. Why won’t they realize that and change?” Tara shrugged. “Change? What is that? I never heard of that around here.” Lila stuck out her tongue. “Office time is seven minutes behind the computers though. Right?” “The clock is slower today.” Lila sighed and stood up. “Of course, it is. Let’s go.”

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.

After packing the simmered chicken soup into an insulated thermal flask, I rushed out of the house with it. 15 minutes later, I was downstairs at her company. Only her office was lit throughout the entire floor. My heart pounded as I walked to her office door and noticed it was unlocked. When I pushed it open, it was empty. How could it be? I saw a man go in! I checked the design department, the pantry, storage room, and every possible hiding spot. However, there was no one around. Breathing heavily, I returned to Celeste's office and heard the rustle of fabric, mixed with a woman's suppressed panting. It seemed to come from near the corner of the room.

He was manipulative, controlling, sometimes cruel—but he wasn't stupid enough to commit fraud in court proceedings. Was he? I pulled up the letter file on my computer, reading through it again with fresh eyes. It did end rather abruptly. The last paragraph felt incomplete, like there should have been more. And if Dr. Ellis had session notes proving it was edited... I stood abruptly, grabbed my jacket, and headed for the door. My assistant jumped up as I passed. "Mr. Ashford, you have a meeting in ten minutes..." "Reschedule everything to tomorrow," I said without slowing. "All of it."