Chapter 5 Grace
CHAPTER FIVE
GRACE
The repetitive drone of my alarm pulls me from a deep sleep and back into reality—extremely reluctantly, given the wonderful dream I was having.
Groaning, I thrust my arm out of the covers, searching for my phone to stop the awful sound. The memories of my dream fade further from my mind as I sit up, rubbing my eyes and releasing a massive yawn. It feels just like any other Monday morning, except…
I shift, rubbing against the now-healed tattoo on my ass. Though it doesn’t hurt anymore, the reminder has me bolting out of bed and racing to the mirror. I need to see it, to make sure it wasn’t just some horrible, vivid dream.
But when I pull the waistband of my pajama bottoms down, his mark is still there. I brush a fingertip over the peeling skin, tracing the outline of the red heart, then the number seven placed in the middle to look like a break.
For the past two weeks, I’ve been jumping out of bed to check on it, praying that it was a hallucination instead of reality. And every morning, I’m reminded of the awful truth.
Red 7 did this. He’s still out there. Waiting. Plotting. A shiver runs through me at the thought of the masked killer. I haven’t had any contact with him since that night he saved me, but that doesn’t mean he’ll stay away forever.
My second alarm blares, breaking me out of my thoughts and reminding me I need to get ready for work. Pushing my worries down, I take a deep breath and head into the bathroom to take a swift shower and wash the fresh sheen of sweat from my skin.
After a quick wash, I dress in a pair of black slacks and a cream-colored blouse, then sit down to work on my makeup.
The cuts on my face have completely healed, and the only evidence of that horrible night is some faint bruising around my eye—which is easy enough to cover with a second layer of concealer.
Strange… I wonder if Red 7 had anything to do with it…
I don’t have time to think about it, because my third and final alarm is going off, warning me I’ll be late if I’m not out the door in the next two minutes.
I swipe some mascara on and slip into my favorite worn-out tennis shoes—stuffing a pair of heels into my purse for when I arrive at the office—then rush out the door.
With the sun high in the sky, I’m brave enough to take my normal walking route to work, and in twenty minutes, I step through the doors of LoveBytten HQ, waving hello to the building's receptionist, Sherry, on my way to the elevators.
Once inside, I press the button for level 4, then hurry to switch into my heels as the little metal box lifts me into the sky.
The doors slide open, and I step out onto the main office floor, adjusting the strap of my purse on my shoulder as I make my way to my cubicle.
I keep my head lowered and movements slow, trying to avoid any unwanted attention.
What I need is a nice, quiet day of work alone with my spreadsheets.
No distractions. No strange interactions.
Of course, it seems the universe has other plans.
“Good morning Grace!”
I cringe as Corey Pembrook’s voice sounds out behind me, overly chipper and tinged with a hint of desperation. I gaze longingly at my cubicle—not two feet from me—before schooling my expression and turning to face Corey.
“Good morning.” I tip my chin in a polite nod. “Hope you had a good weekend.”
He gives me a bright smile, his bicep flexing as he pushes his wavy blond hair back from his forehead.
“It was great! I went axe throwing and then to a microbrewery with the guys. How was yours? Did you do anything fun?”
I fight the urge to groan as I fix my face into a sickly sweet smile, giving him my full attention. “Just rested.”
“That’s great!”
I nod, hoping that’s the end of this interaction. I turn back to my cubicle when his voice breaks out again, dashing my hopes.
“I wish I was able to rest,” he continues. “I was too busy taking shots with the super-hot bartender and going apeshit with my buddies.”
My eye twitches with the struggle to keep my smile in place. “So fun.”
Corey takes my response as an invitation to tell me more about his weekend—but for the life of me, I can’t bring myself to pay attention. He’s a nice enough guy, but for some reason, he rubs me the wrong way.
Part of the problem is that he just refuses to take no for an answer. Ever since I began working at LoveBytten, he’s made it clear that he’s interested in me, and no matter how many times I turn him down, he keeps trying. It might be endearing to some, but for me, it’s incredibly irritating.
Not to mention the lead designer, Tricia, has the hots for Corey. And because he’s made his interest in me so clear, Tricia has it out for me.
Sure enough, when I glance to the left, I notice Tricia’s icy-blue eyes staring daggers at where Corey and I are standing. Great…
“Listen, Corey, I really need to get to work…” I give him a half-assed attempt at a sympathetic smile. “Sorry to interrupt.”
“No problem, killer.” He holds his hands up with a boyish smile as he backs up. “I know not to get between Grace and her work. Rawr.”
Ick. Shaking off my repulsed shivers, I turn and hurry to my cubicle, sighing as I finally sit down in my chair. Of course, my relief only lasts a moment before Tricia pokes her head over the top of the cubicle.
I stifle a sigh, leaning back in my chair to give her my attention. “Good morning, Tricia. Hope you had a good weekend—”
“You don’t care about my weekend,” she snaps. “I don’t know why you even ask.”
Okay… so it’s going to be one of those interactions. This time, I don’t hold back my sigh. “How can I help you, Tricia?”
Her lip pulls back in an ugly sneer disguised as a smile. “I just came over to chat. See what you and Corey were talking about.”
“You know you can ask him, right?” I turn my gaze back to my laptop, hoping she’ll take the hint and leave. “He’s in a particularly chatty mood this morning.”
Her lips press together in a deep pout. “Yeah, for you.” She taps a long lacquered nail on the wall, casting a glance toward Corey’s cubicle. “Did he say anything about me?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “I wasn’t really listening.”
“See, that’s your problem, Grace. You have a good thing in front of you, and you sneer at it. I’d give anything for Corey to look at me the way he looks at you.” She leans in, lowering her voice in a conspiratorial whisper. “What is it you did?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
She scoffs, gesturing to my face and body like that’s supposed to mean something. “I mean, you must have done or said something to make him like you.”
Anger heats my skin. I’m not sure I like where this conversation is going. “I need to get back to work.”
She waves me off. “Oh, please. Don’t act coy. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“No,” I say through gritted teeth. “I don’t.”
She just snorts. “Corey likes more of a… model’s build, if you get what I mean.”
I pull my shoulders back, fixing her with my best glare. “I do not get what you mean. Now please, leave me alone.”
“Whatever. Be that way.” She rolls her crystalline eyes. “He’ll get bored of you eventually.”
With that, she turns on her heel and stomps back to her desk. I blow out a breath, attempting to get my emotions in order. The nerve of that woman. I don’t even like Corey, but the insinuation that I’m not good enough because of how I look? It has me seeing red.
“Fucking Corey and Tricia. Pair of royal assholes.” I mumble, turning my attention to my computer screen.
I try my best to focus on work, but I can’t keep my mind off what Tricia said to me.
My appearance has always been a soft spot for me—whether it was because of survival or insecurity—and even though I love my body now, comments like Tricia’s can still affect me on a bad day.
Based on the things I’ve been going through these past few days, it’s understandable that I’m extra sensitive. But my head is a mess, and getting work done today is going to be a struggle.
Nine hours pass painfully slow, and by the time I’m ready to go home, I’m fighting against a raging headache. The last thing I want is to spend the next hour on a bus, and the sun is still high in the sky, so I opt to walk home.
I step through the door, and a pair of arms fling around my neck. My pulse skyrockets, and for one horrible moment, I think it's Red 7 attacking. But then I blink, and Saffron's smiling face comes into view.
“Jesus, Saffron.” I hug her back tightly as relief floods my system. “You scared me. I thought you were… not you.”
“Oh shit. I didn’t even consider that.” She pulls back, her pretty face twisted in concern. “I wanted to surprise you after work, and I wasn’t thinking… are you okay?”
I nod, patting her arm softly. “I am now. Just a little jumpy still.”
“I’ll keep the surprises to a minimum for a while.” She gives me another tight squeeze, pulling back with a wide smile. “Except for one more. I’m taking you out!”
I have to stifle my groan, not wanting to rain on her parade. “It’s Monday, though…”
She laughs. “Just for dinner and a drink or two. Come on, it’ll cheer you up. Give you something to do so you don’t sit around stewing.”
She knows me too well. “But I like to stew…”
She rolls her eyes, pulling me into my apartment and shoving me toward my bedroom. “I know, and it’s not good for you. Get changed into something comfy.”
“Music to my ears.”
I hurry to do as she instructs, picking a pair of jean cutoffs and an old Amigo the Devil T-shirt, finishing the look off with my favorite pair of black Chucks.
“Cute,” Saffron says, giving me a nod of approval as soon as I step out of the bedroom. “Ready to go?”
“As I’ll ever be.” I grab my purse and keys from the counter. “Where are we going?”
“Mr. Brewsters.”
“Oh my God, they have the best fried pickles!” My mouth is watering at the thought.
Clearly, my approval shows on my face because Saffron lets out a hearty chuckle. “I had a feeling you wouldn't turn those down.”