Chapter 11 #2
Left speechless and wearing a ruined suit, I somehow develop a sliver of respect for the damn woman.
“Sorry, I’m late. I got held up,” I announce as I walk into the room and hold my hand out to Ryder Jackson, the lead singer for The Perfect Losers.
The guy is a legend—hard to track down, hard to get an audience with, and even harder to get a conversation out of.
Even though Frank said all cases need to be handed over or put on hold, I’ve been working toward getting Ryder as a client for too long now to cancel.
Plus, his music is some of the best I’ve ever heard.
Ryder’s edgy look—pretty boy mixed with emo—has the women going nuts for him.
He’s tall and lean, his dark hair cropped short around the sides.
He looks up, a smile on his face as he takes me in. I managed to change my suit and wash my face, but that glitter is stuck the fuck on, and I can’t get it off. The larger pieces I was able to pick off quickly, but the smaller pieces? They’re gonna be there for years to come.
“I had a little, uh, mishap,” I reply, feeling completely unprofessional, and the imposter syndrome starts kicking in, all because of her. “I was, uh—”
“He was playing with his coloring pencils and glitter when he should have been working,” a voice says from behind me.
This fucking woman.
I groan and tilt my head to the ceiling, clenching my jaw. When I look back down, Ryder is staring at Blake, interest clear in his gaze.
Oh, fuck no.
I snap my fingers in front of Ryder’s face. “The help is off limits.”
“Ignore him, Mr. Jackson.” Blake chuckles and holds her hand out. “He doesn’t know how to share.”
“I know how to share very well, Miss…?”
Ryder takes her hand, kissing the back of it, and my jaw clenches again, teeth grinding so hard I wouldn’t be surprised if they could hear it from space.
“Adams. Blake Adams,” she purrs, a coy smile on her face, one I know is entirely fake and only for his benefit.
The urge to rip her hand away from Ryder’s is intense, but I ignore it. I’m only trying to protect him from the soul-sucking bitch that’s standing in front of him, not because I’m jealous that he’s touching something that belongs to me.
“If I’d have known someone as beautiful as you would be working with me, I would have hit Theo up sooner,” he murmurs, the charm well and truly out in force.
“I think I threw up in my mouth,” I say with a groan. “If we can get back to the task at hand?”
“Of course,” Blake says, a smirk on her face.
“Not you,” I growl, pointing to the door. “This is a private meeting. Go do something useful… somewhere else.”
“Aw, come on, man,” Ryder whines. “I could do with something nice to look at.” He winks at Blake, and I’m about ready to punch the fucker.
“Blake,” I bark. “Out. Now.”
Her head whips around, her eyes blazing with defiance, but I stand my ground.
Blake, sensing I’m not messing around, huffs, says goodbye to Ryder, and leaves the room.
Turning back to Ryder, I say in a low dark tone, “Miss Adams is off limits. You don’t look, you don’t touch, you don’t even speak to her. Are we clear?”
Ryder starts laughing, probably expecting me to join in, but I don’t. I don’t find this amusing at all.
Finally reading the room, Ryder stops and tilts his head in acknowledgment.
“Good.” I clap my hands together. “Let’s start with the reason why you think you need a lawyer.”
After the longest meeting of my life, I’m beat. I’m so exhausted my head hurts, but my mind won’t quit. Getting out of Ryder what he wanted and needed was long-winded to say the least. The guy has a nasty way of answering a question without actually answering the question.
The office is quiet as I walk through, everyone having gone home for the day, so my curiosity is piqued when I see the library lights on low. There’s only one person who springs to mind who could be there.
I shouldn’t go in, I can’t stand being in the same room as her, but something still pulls me there anyway.
It’s like an invisible piece of string tugging me to her, one I’m desperate to cut but can’t.
I’m pretty sure that even if I had the scissors in my hands, I still wouldn’t be able to bring myself to sever all ties with her. I just wanna know why.
Blake Adams is my own personal headache.
The one woman I don’t want to want. What she did—her leaving—ripped me right down the middle and left me bleeding on the floor.
Literally. But still, my feet move on their own accord while my mind fights itself.
She’s sitting hunched over a desk as I quietly enter the room, too engrossed in whatever book’s in front of her.
Her hair is pulled back off her face, and she’s used a pencil to style it.
She’d look cute if I didn’t detest the sight of her.
“Wanna tell me what the fuck that stunt was about earlier today?” I grind out, not venturing further into the room, because honestly? I don’t trust myself.
Blake doesn’t bother looking up as she replies, “Paybacks a bitch, big guy. If you can’t handle the heat, stay out of the kitchen.”
I chuckle, not wanting her to know I’m enjoying this little game of prank wars.
“Be careful what you wish for, firefly. I might just come back bigger and harder.”
She shrugs, still not looking up, and continues to thumb through the papers, which only pisses me off. “I’m shaking in my boots,” she deadpans.
How I haven’t throttled this woman yet, I’ll never know. But I can’t stop the voice in the back of my head that pipes up with, That’s because the way she talks to you gets you hard.
I slap my face, ignoring the completely and utterly ludicrous voice.
“You ruined my favorite suit,” I point out, crossing my arms.
“And? If there’s a point to all of this mindless drivel, Theo, can you get to it quickly? I’ve got work to do.”
I snap.
I stalk across the room, then swivel her chair around to face me as I lean in close. She takes me in, her chest heaving, and my eyes dart to her mouth. I watch as she licks her lips, the pink gloss smearing.
I grip her chin in my hand, almost engulfing her face, and whisper, “There’s always a point, firefly.”
Blake’s eyes narrow. “I never wanted any of this to begin with. I just want to do my job and go home. I’m only giving as good as I get. I’m not scared of you, Theo. You forget I know you too well.”
“You used to know me.” I scoff. “That guy is dead and buried, exactly how you wanted him.”
“You’re not the victim here, Theo. You’re twisting this for your own rhetoric, and I’m done. Go play your mind games with someone else,” she sneers, jerking her face away from my grip.
“You really are fucking delusional if you think I’m not the victim here. How you can say otherwise is laughable.” I move back, stomping toward the door. “But too bad, firefly,” I call over my shoulder, desperate to get away from her. “I’m just getting started.”