Whit's Hours Novels & Stories

Everyone looked like they were one bad deployment away from joining the casualty statistics. This was what the Houses had built. A machine that turned people into credits, then used those credits to keep the machine running. Whitney was waiting outside my door when I arrived. “You look terrible,” she said. “Good morning to you too.” “I’m serious. When’s the last time you slept more than four hours?” She followed me inside and immediately started making tea from the supplies she’d stashed in my cupboard weeks ago. “You’re going to burn out before the Convocation if you keep this pace.”

Working hours cannot exceed eight hours. Ethan Wharton said apologetically, 'It won't happen next time. Today we talked about two cooperations, which delayed the time.' 'Uh-huh, hurry up, don't come back after work, just sleep in the company.' Kristen Oliver hung up after a few words of boredom. After thinking about it, I contacted the private restaurant near the company and ordered some supper. It was getting late when I looked at my watch, and Kristen Oliver just went to sleep.

They were doing me a favor. “Our business hours are eleven o'clock in the morning to seven in the evening. That will all be known to you when you start booking appointments for us.” Chase added. “Honestly, I don't think you would need to be here for the full eight hours a day without getting bored. With what we will have you doing, I think one to seven work best for you.” Joyce said and her brother looked at her and my brother then to me. “Unless you need the hours for money, if not, she is right. You don't need to be here that whole time.” He agreed with her and my brother nodded.

11 YEARS AGO, LUTON PREP MANHATTAN “What’s the address of this home?” Julien rasped into the speaker. “I’ll text it to you, the visiting hours are from 10-4 pm, have a nice day,” the private investigator rasped into the phone.

Patients began to whisper about his terrible attitude. He even posted a notice on the infirmary door: "Office hours are from 10 AM to 4 PM. Two-hour lunch break at noon. No patients on weekends. Do not disturb."

he asked as he tugged on his shoes. I groaned because I had a pretty full schedule this week. “Thursday.” That was ladies’ night at Forbidden, and only guys worked on ladies’ night. “So the countdown begins anew.” Pausing to check his phone and type something quickly, he grinned and winked at me before slipping it into his pocket. My cell chimed a second later as he started for the door. Frowning, I checked it to see that he’d texted me, saying: FROM COLTON: 60 hours.

For a while now, Whitney had waited for him to come home every day before she would start eating… but alas, he never took a single bite. Regardless, when his message notification tone rang, he gave it a glance… and upon reading the message, he immediately got to his feet. Before he could leave, however, Whitney said, “You leave at five every morning, and you only return at eight-thirty at night. Is that not enough time in the treatment room? Sure, we’re not officially married yet, but don’t you think you’re crossing the line a little? I’m the one who saved her life, you know?”

POV: Damien The quarterly review meeting ran forty minutes longer than it should have, which wasn’t unusual in itself. What was unusual was Whitfield. He'd always been one of the more straightforward members of the board, not warm exactly, not someone I’d ever call a friend, but reliable in the way that mattered most in a boardroom, predictable in his positions, consistent in his concerns, easy to read because he never bothered trying to be anything else. Today he was trying to be something else.

I was a nodded my head in determination while looking in his eyes seriously to which he nodded his head back a little and continued saying. "Working hours tend to be from 9 a.m. to 6 p.m. in weekdays . But working overtime is expected and some rules like a celebrity PA, must require you to be on-hand 24/7." He said this quite arrogantly and I also tried my best not to roll my eyes on him and just nodded my head and bit my lower lips. "I understand sir. Anything else....?" I asked him in a complete professional tone. At first he eyed me strangely , and then cleared his throat and said in a uncertain voice.

After I was done with her, I was making my way back to my apartment when my wolf nudged me. ‘Can we please go out for a run? I feel like I've been trapped forever!’ That's my wolf, Snow. Honestly I feel bad for her. But it's not really my fault I have to roam around disguised as a human. We know what can happen if we slip up. It is very easy for my wolf to cover up her scent though, one of the perks of being a White Wolf. After thinking about it, I decided to let her out for a few hours.