Turning to Stone (Heart of Stone: Book 2)

Chapter 3: Friendship

Chapter 3: Friendship

Mac hadn't told me that I'd need to make an appointment, so I was both embarrassed and impressed when the receptionist seemed reluctant to call up to him.

He'd excelled since leaving uni, achieving the kind of prestigious job that many of his classmates could only dream of. I hadn't pegged him as the career-driven type back then, but I'd only seen the non-working version of him, the party animal who was always up for a night out when the rest of the flat wanted to stay in. We'd clicked instantly in that respect, but university truly was a bubble, and we'd fallen out of touch after graduation just as easily.

As I waited in the modern lobby of his law firm, admiring the huge glass-panelled walls and marble floors, I realised there must have been a different side to Mac than the one I'd known. Nobody could bullshit their way into a place like this. However hard he'd partied outside his classes, he must have worked twice as hard inside them.

"You can go up," the receptionist said, gesturing towards the lifts. "Twelfth floor. You'll come to another reception area, and they'll point you in the right direction."

In keeping with the modern nature of the building, the lift doors automatically parted as soon as I stepped up to them, revealing an entirely mirrored interior, except for the plush, navy carpet. Roman numerals listed out the floors, a chic juxtaposition to the otherwise contemporary aesthetic.

I hit XII and the car began to smoothly ascend. This was the kind of place I'd have liked to work if I hadn't given up the corporate lifestyle. And if it didn't come with the long, stressful hours that I imagined it probably did.

The doors glided apart silently, revealing a reception desk in front of a wooden partition adorned with the company's logo. I introduced myself and was swiftly accompanied down carpeted corridors and past closed doors, until we reached an office right at the end.

"Go straight through," she said.

Thanking her, I twisted the handle and pushed against the glass. Mac sat behind a large desk, looking devilishly handsome in a crisp white shirt and light grey waistcoat. His brow was furrowed as he stared at the laptop in front of him, but his eyes softened when he glanced up at me, and a relaxed smile tickled his lips.

"After legal advice?" He leaned back in his chair, folding his hands behind his blonde head.

The soft Scottish accent, paired with the mischievous glint in his eye and laidback body language, had an instant calming effect on me. While I still struggled to reconcile uni Mac with lawyer Mac, the man in front of me now was familiar.

"Yes." I played along. "Intellectual property theft."

His mouth stretched into a grin. "Incorrect use of the term but brownie points for trying."

"I know. You put me on the spot and that was the best joke I could come up with."

I wandered over to the floor-to-ceiling window behind his desk, peering out at the view of a neighbouring skyscraper's gym. For the first time since stepping inside the beautiful building, I was underwhelmed.

"Cool place to work," I said. "You've done well for yourself."

"You almost sound impressed, Palmer."

"Hmm, just a shame about the view. Do you need a promotion before you get an office with a nice panorama of the city?"

I turned back to face him, leaning my shoulder against the glass and crossing one leg in front of the other.

"Thought you came here to collect your missing lingerie, not to insult me."