Chapter Six
WITH ONLY A SPLIT-SECOND to spare, I could only brace for impact.
Been there, done that, I thought unhappily while mentally preparing myself for the look of pity I was sure to see on Paul’s face.
Roseanne did so love throwing her weight around (literally), and she loved apologizing to me even more just so she could add in the end that it wasn’t her fault I was so small and skinny.
“Oh no, no, no!” Even with a fake look of horror on her face, Roseanne still looked as lovely as ever.
I squeezed my eyes shut, prepared to once again fly across the lobby, but instead I felt one strong arm curving around my waist.
YANK!
My eyes flew open as Paul hauled me out of Roseanne’s way, and my lips parted in silent horror as I watched the other woman screech as she skidded straight into the wall head first like a crazed, raging she-bull.
Cronos save her.
Paul looked down at me, asking blandly, “Is she always that careless?”
“Umm...” I had no idea what to say. As much as it pained me to admit this, Paul wasn’t the first guy to see how Roseanne loved to bully me. He was, however, the first one to actually do something about it, and while I was pleased about it—-
I also felt stupid and disappointed, realizing too late that I shouldn’t have let Roseanne get away with so much in the first place.
“Blair? Are you hurt anywhere?”
Paul’s soft question made me belatedly realize I was still leaning against him like some weak damsel in distress. My self-disgust grew, and I quickly pulled away from him, muttering, “Sorry.”
His hazel eyes turned thoughtful, but in the end he only nodded, saying politely, “It was nothing.”
The sound of angry stomping had us both turning around, and we saw Roseanne angrily heading towards our direction, her face an ugly shade of red.
I prepared myself to confront her once and for all, but Paul beat me to speaking.
“I apologize for the accident.” Paul’s velvety smooth voice had my eyes widening. Was it just me or was he acting like he could charm Roseanne out of her bad temper? “I hope you weren’t terribly hurt?”
There was a second of silence—-
And then I heard Roseanne simper, “Oh, it’s fine.”
My head snapped back to him. It’s fine? I once saw an intern accidentally misspell her name in a report, and the CIA agent had ripped into her like the girl had committed murder.
And now that very same woman was saying everything was fine even though Paul’s quick reflexes had caused her to sport a huge, swelling lump on her forehead?
I could only mentally shake my head as Roseanne batted her lashes like a coquettish Victorian throwback while introducing herself to Paul and afterwards gushing at how thrilled she was to meet a skilled detective like him.
By the time we headed up to CSI’s block of offices, leaving behind a certain CIA agent who was alternately ogling Paul and glaring at me, I was half-disbelieving, half-suspicious.
First, those people in the casino, and now Roseanne – could it be possible that he was...
Paul caught me looking at him frowningly as we reached the top of the stairs. “Is there anything wrong?”
I slowly turned to him with my hands unconsciously settling on my hips like I was a mother about to confront a son who might have done something naughty. “Be honest with me, please?”
“Of course.”
Paul’s swift assurance allowed me to relax slightly, and I asked in a rush, “Who are you, really? I’m certain you didn’t use any spell on Roseanne, but—-”
The sound of a door opening cut me off, followed by a familiar, icily pleasant voice. “Paul, what a surprise.”
Dike stepped into view, and I was startled to see an unusually disconcerted expression on her face. My gaze immediately flew to Paul’s but a bland mask of politeness had fallen over his handsome features.
Uneasiness skittered down my spine. Something’s not adding up, I thought again.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” I heard our division director murmur.
“I hope you don’t mind me dropping by.” Paul’s voice was smooth. “I felt it proper to let you know in person I’ve been working with one of your agents.”
Dike’s glance slanted towards me. “I see.”
I bit my lip. It did seem like she saw something. But what?
A closed-door meeting was held at Paul’s request, with our division director taking a seat at the head of the table while Paul took the other end. Also present in the room were Lana, Agent Tamara Gries who was to represent the CIA, and...well, me.
A mistake must’ve been made, I thought nervously. Lana might be a Level 1 like me, but everyone knew she was a tech wiz. She had what it took to be in this room.
I didn’t.
Someone still learning the ropes shouldn’t be here, and if I wasn’t so scared of my boss, I would have been tempted to ask the Daughter of Justice if she was certain about having me in the room.
It should’ve been someone else – like Tristan or Maria or even Roseanne – anyone who could actually contribute something to the table.
The meeting commenced with Paul providing a succinct summary of the evidence we had uncovered, and as soon as he was done speaking, Dike asked the INTERPOL detective what his next step was.
“With your permission—-” Paul made a polite gesture towards my direction, murmuring, “I’d like to have Agent Vavrin—-”
Dike started in her seat, the sudden jerking motion drawing everyone’s eyes to her.
“Is something the matter, Director?” Paul asked politely.
“Apologies.” Her voice was curt. “You were saying about Agent Vavrin?”
“With your permission, I’d like to have her accompany me when I pay a visit to a siren I know.”
“Granted.”
I almost choked. Just like that? But before I could even figure out how I felt about the way things were progressing, the CIA agent with us was already shaking her head with a frown.
“No offense to Agent Vavrin—-” The statuesque brunette gave me an apologetic smile. “But wouldn’t it better if someone more experienced accompany Detective—-” Tamara raised a brow at Paul.
“Paul.”
“Paul...?”
Paul’s lips curved into a smile. “Just Paul.”
With the exception of Dike, all of us couldn’t help gaping at his blatant evasion. Wasn’t that carrying his secretiveness a little too far? It was just his last name, for Cronos’ sake.
“Let him be,” my superior said dismissively. “INTERPOL detectives are notoriously suspicious that way.”
Tamara let out a stiff laugh. “Of course.” Her tone, however, was patently unconvinced.
Dike turned to Paul. “As for Agent Gries’ suggestion, it’s your call.”
“I’m sure Agent Gries is entirely capable—-” It was Paul’s turn to give the other woman a smile of polite apology. “But I must insist on continuing to work with Agent Vavrin for reasons I can’t disclose at the moment.”
Tamara’s gaze narrowed. “So that’s how it is.”
Paul appeared indifferent to whatever the other agent was insinuating. He swung his chair to face Dike, asking with laconic ease, “Director?”
“Permission was already granted,” Dike answered with a grunt. Turning to the CIA agent, she said abruptly, “I appreciate your good intentions, Agent Gries, but with INTERPOL now involved it’s best to let Paul do as he sees fit.”