Harper
The door to my office hasn’t even fully shut before I turn to Wade. “Give me your knife.”
“No.” He crosses his arms over his wide expanse of chest, puffing up a little.
“Why not?” I ask, incredulous that he wouldn’t do me this teensy, tiny little favor. He bends at the waist, to look me dead on, arms still crossed.
“You can’t kill her.”
I smile sweetly, booping him on the nose, “Well, we both know that’s not true.”
“Harper,” he scolds, straightening back out.
“Fine, I swear. I won’t touch a hair on her bleached little head.” I make a crisscross over my chest before holding my hand out.
“Still no. It’s my favorite knife and you’ll hurt her,” he says calmly, turning on his heel to stride back to his post next to the bar. He calls his knife her, but sure, I’m the psychopath.
“Fine. I’m going out back for a smoke break,” I say, scurrying around him, bumping lightly with my hip as I go.
“You don’t smoke!” he hollers after me, watching me weave through the audience towards the back exit and valet stand for the garage.
“I won’t leave the garage, promise!” I call back, hoping it buys me a few extra minutes before he comes storming out to get me.
He’s nervous to leave me without a shadow, even within the confines of the Cirque grounds.
Better make those minutes count. After making a pit stop at the valet, I walk through the garage looking for spot eighty-five.
Eighty-three.
Eighty-four.
A silver Lexus sits tucked into parking space eighty-five, waxed to perfection with shiny rims and not a scratch to be seen.
I pull Wade’s knife from behind my back, pulling it free of the sheath to tuck back into the waistband of my pants. Taking it off him was easy, and I did ask nicely first.
I place the tip of the blade about halfway down from the driver’s window, pressing firmly as I start to carve. I walk around the car at a lazy pace, letting my hand wander up and down, the wavy pattern a tapestry of my rage.
It was the only thing you were good for.
The screech of the blade is the sweetest symphony as I dig even harder, closing the circle before I drop into a crouch and slam the blade into the first tire.
I yank the blade back, the whoosh of air escaping feeling like the first full breath I’ve taken, the vice around my chest loosening a little more with each tire mauled until I’m standing in front of her car, chest heaving, desperate for the air I was deprived.
“What ’cha doing there, sis?”
I slowly turn around to see Sadie standing behind me, hands clasped behind her back as she rocks casually on her feet, head tilted in curiosity.
“Her tire pressure looked off. I was just making them even,” I deadpan, chest still working overtime to let the tightness melt away. She takes a few steps closer, brow furrowing.
“Harper, if you need—” she starts.
“Don’t give me that look, Sadie. I’m fine. I’m handling it. I’m fine,” I cut her off, sheathing the blade.
“You’ve handled it so well,” she praises, pulling a steel bat from behind her back, flipping it with a flick of her wrist, raising the handle out to me in invitation. “Now handle it poorly.”
I reach out tentatively, taking the bat from her, weighing it in my grasp, spinning it lightly once before I turn back to the car.
It was the only thing you were good for.
I bring the bat down against the front hood, the fresh dent begging to be spread wider, so I oblige, swinging the bat over and over until there isn’t an inch of the front hood unmarred.
I step to the driver’s side, following the path I already carved out, breaking out one window at a time, until I’m back to the front of the car.
Glass litters the ground around me like diamonds, a stunning retribution.
I raise the bat, aiming for the side mirror. Bitch doesn’t deserve to check her blind spots, when I hear a small gasp behind me.
Sadie and I both turn towards the noise, bat still stretched high above my head, to see Tessa standing there, eyes wide holding two garbage bags.
“I saw nothing…” Tessa chuckles, lowering the garbage bags to the ground before turning around and walking briskly back to the back door.
I glance quickly over to Sadie, who lifts a shoulder in a lazy shrug.
“Let it fly, slugger,” she grins.
I let it fly.
“I am so sorry for the inconvenience, Ms. Aldritch. We have never had something like this happen before,” I purr, the adrenaline slowly draining from my body, the need to claw receding as I watch her lips purse in annoyance.
“Of course, Cirque will cover all the expenses for the damage, and we will provide a temporary vehicle in the meantime.”
“I just don’t understand. Don’t you have security cameras or something to see who did this?” she huffs, bringing her noodle arms up to fold over her less than impressive chest.
“I’m very sorry, Ms. Aldritch.” I’m giddy. “The cameras malfunctioned during the window in which the damage was done.” Because we fucking turned them off.
“Maybe we should call the police, have them look— ”
“As unfortunate a situation as this is, I think it opened a line of communication between us. I believe you work in PR, correct? I have been thinking about expanding Cirque’s social media presence,” I supply, winding her hand through the crook of my elbow as I walk her towards the exit.
“I think it’s a relationship we should explore, yes? ”
Like I would ever let this witch control what the perception of Cirque is, but I see the distraction has taken root.
The glimmer of greed in her eyes lets me know I hit the right cord, the idea of snagging Cirque as a client washing away all the concern and contempt she held moments ago for her precious car.
“Why don’t I give you my personal number, and we can set up a private chat to discuss things further,” I lift an arm, gesturing to the driver as Vanessa prattles on about all the improvements she would make to Cirque’s image.
I bite my tongue to keep from snapping at her, or worse digging my claws into her arm as I untangle us, passing her off with a small wave and fake smile.
The minute she is out the door I turn around, only to come face to face with a broad chest, mere inches from my nose. I come up short before I slam into him and look up, and up and up, into Wade’s snarling face.
He doesn’t say a word as I step back a step, just lifts his hand palm up and waits, the other hand coming up to sit on his hip. I wait another few seconds to see if he will start tapping his foot with impatience, but he just makes a deep rumbly noise that a little too closely mimics a bear.
I reach behind my back and tug the knife from my waistband, dropping it delicately into his waiting palm, He glowers at me, curling his hand around the sheathed blade and turning on his heel to march back to his post outside my office.
I follow him to the office door, noting as I walk through that he’s inspecting the knife for damage. I’m rolling my eyes as I tug the door closed behind me, only to be greeted by Colton sitting behind my desk, feet propped up and hands threaded behind his head.
“Did you get a promotion I don’t know about?” I stand to the side of the desk, feeling my heartbeat kick up a few beats as he straightens up and meets my eyes.
“I wouldn’t dream of it. I like being under you too much,” he grins, and I feel my cheeks heat at the memory of my thighs wrapped around his head as I rode his face. Should have let him suffocate.
I don’t say anything, better not to risk it when I’m unsure what poison will flow out.
I wait as he drops his legs off the desk and saunters over to me, a new spring in his step that feels at odds with his demeanor of late.
He’s been careful around me, looking for signs of affection or hatred I can’t be sure, so I’ve given him neither.
“Did everything get sorted out with Vanessa’s car?” he asks, the smile a little too bright for discussing vandalism.
“Yes, it’s fine,” I reply, keeping my hands languid by my side to stop from fidgeting.
“Can’t imagine why someone would do that to her car, especially since she said it didn’t look like anything was taken,” he says, meandering towards the door on my office, brushing past me but careful not to touch me. But I can still feel him, the phantom stroke across my cheek seared into my skin.
“Very odd indeed, couldn’t have happened to someone nicer. Please do see that she has a temporary vehicle all set up and bring me all the repair paperwork when it’s ready,” I clip out, sitting behind my newly vacated desk and shifting around to get comfortable.
“Absolutely. And Harper?” he stops at the door, turning towards me as he presses down on the handle, the déjà vu of our first meeting making my breath catch. “You have glass in your hair.”