Chapter 7 Grace
CHAPTER SEVEN
GRACE
Today, I woke up even groggier than I was last time.
Even though I slept clean through the night, it feels like I’ve been up for three days straight.
It takes me twice as long to get through my morning routine, and my brain is so foggy, I end up putting salt in my coffee instead of sugar—something I realize as soon as I step out of the front door and take a sip.
I've been late to work only twice in the year I’ve worked at LoveBytten.
Thankfully, it’s only by a few minutes, and no one seems to notice or care.
Still, I can’t help but worry about my health.
It’s so unlike me to be this out of sorts, and I don’t have any other symptoms that would accompany a cold or flu, so I really have no idea what’s going on.
Instead of working, I spend most of my morning staring blankly at my computer screen, replaying images of Red 7 in my mind. By the time lunch rolls around, my head feels no less cloudy, my anxiety is through the roof, and I’m downright crabby.
Hoping that some food will make me feel better, I get up from my desk and make my way to the break room.
Unfortunately, Tricia and her usual circle are standing around the table, blocking the fridge.
Tricia leans directly on the door, one of her friends holding up a small mirror to help her as she reapplies her lip gloss between bites of her plain, non-fat yogurt.
As I approach, one of Tricia’s friends whispers in her ear, and her crystal-blue eyes snap over to me. Tricia says something back to her, and they both fall into a fit of mean-spirited giggles.
“Excuse me,” I say, stopping in front of Tricia. “I need to get in the fridge.”
She looks me up and down with a nasty sneer. “Wouldn’t want to get between you and your calories.”
She steps to the side, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. I reach forward, and as my hand wraps around the handle, my stomach lets out a loud gurgling noise, prompting Tricia and her friends to let out another few sniggers.
Ignore them, Grace. You’re better than that. I take a deep breath and pull open the door, locate my sandwich before turning to leave. I’m practically out of the circle when someone sticks their foot out, deliberately tripping me.
I stumble forward, inadvertently dropping my lunch to the floor—but thankfully, I’m able to steady myself before I join it. Of course, the sandwich slips out of the paper bag and lands face down on the dirty break room floor. Ruined.
Another round of giggles breaks out over my shoulder, and I whip around to shoot Tricia a glare. “You did that on purpose.”
Tricia shrugs nonchalantly, staring into her compact as she drags a painted finger along her lip line.
“Don’t be so dramatic, Grace.” Her gaze cuts to me, giving me a once-over and scoffing before returning to her mirror.
“Besides, you could skip a meal or two. I’d say your clumsiness did you a favor. ”
Her comment sends the group into a fit of obnoxious laughter, the sound digging beneath my skin and filling my head with heated pressure. The absolute nerve of this bitch.
I sidle over to Tricia with a sugar-sweet smile, giving her zero indication of my next move. I stop directly in front of her, staring unblinking as I stick my pointer finger in my mouth, coating it with saliva.
Then I shove it into Tricia’s yogurt.
Horrified gasps ring out all around me, but I’m too busy enjoying Tricia’s expression to notice.
“What the fuck, Grace?”
“Don’t be dramatic, Tricia.” I shrug nonchalantly, much like she had done earlier. “You think you’re better than me because you can squeeze into a smaller pair of jeans? Bite me. On the inside, you’re rotten. And you don’t need a mirror to see that.”
Tricia raises her hand like she’s about to strike me, but I see it coming. I snag her wrist midair, holding her back easily as I fix her with a haughty expression. On the inside, I’m screaming, hardly able to believe those defense classes I paid for over the years actually came in handy.
“Are you done now?” I ask, knowing she has no more moves to play.
Tricia stands there for a few moments, her face pinched like she smells something rotten. “Whatever. I don’t have time to deal with this now.”
She rips her hand away and stalks out of the break room, her heels clacking steadily as she heads back to her cubicle.
Her minions stare after her for several moments before collecting themselves and hurrying after her, assuring her of their support and attempting to make her feel better for the embarrassing situation.
After making a coffee, I head back to my cubicle, unable to wipe the grin from my face.
Normally, I wouldn’t do something so reckless, but damn did it feel good to stand up to Tricia.
She’s been giving me shit ever since I began working at this company, and it’s relieving to finally do something to get back at her.
Something that could get me in serious trouble.
My smile fades, and a lump forms in my throat as I sit down in my office chair.
I stare straight ahead at my computer screen, the weight of my actions bearing down on me in full.
If Tricia runs to a superior with the complaint that I maliciously ruined her lunch, I’ll get in serious trouble.
Hell, if she spins the story the right way, she might even be able to get me fired.
I groan, laying my head onto my hands. You really fucked it up this time, Grace.
“Taking a nap, are we, Grace?”
“Ms. Novak!” I do my best to smooth my hair back as I turn to her with a forced smile. “Of course not. I was just… taking a moment before getting back to work on the monthly spreadsheets.”
“Relax, Grace.” She laughs easily. “I know it’s your lunch break. You’re not in trouble.”
“Of course.” I release an awkward chuckle, smoothing a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Anything I can do for you?”
“Actually, yes.” She gestures over her shoulder. “This is Archer Graves, our new COO. I wanted to introduce you two. Archer, this is Grace Kent, our head financial analyst. ”
For the first time, I move my gaze from Ms. Novak to the stranger standing behind her, and my breath catches in my chest.
He’s… beautiful.
Mr. Graves looks young—maybe mid-thirties.
Much younger than any of the other people in charge here.
And he's also incredibly handsome. He towers over me at well over six feet with broad shoulders and arms that seem to have a hard time fitting into his suit. His face looks like it was carved from stone—a square, clean-shaven jaw, full, kissable lips, and the most striking pair of eyes I’ve ever seen.
Not brown or red, but something in between. Like the color of dried blood.
“I… thought he wasn’t supposed to start until next week?” I stumble with the first question that comes to mind, too enamored by Mr. Graves to think of anything more impressive.
Ms. Novak grins knowingly, seeming to find humor at the sight of the blush spreading across my face. Perhaps I’m not the first person to be caught off guard by Mr. Graves’s good looks.
I’m not sure if that makes me feel better or worse.
“Mr. Graves was not supposed to arrive until next week, but his travel plans got mixed up,” Ms. Novak explains. “But he’s in Moriton now, and ready to get started. We’re happy to have him early.”
“That’s… great.” No matter how I try, I’m unable to think of a more coherent response. “Really cool.”
Mr. Graves smiles, the motion making him even more stunning than he was before. “I’m glad to hear you say that. It makes this next part easier.”
“Easier?”
Mr. Graves fixes me with an unyielding stare, head tilted at an odd angle as his eyes blaze. A shiver runs the length of my spine, but I assure myself it’s attraction—not fear—that has me reacting this way.
Ms. Novak clears her throat, filling the silence hanging between us. “Mr. Graves is relocating his desk to the main floor for six months to be closer to the employees and get a better feel for the culture of the company.”
“Yes, it’s something I do whenever I join a new organization,” he adds. “Makes the transition far easier, in my opinion.”
Well, it’s a great way to make sure everyone is on their best behavior for a few months…
“Well, we’d better be off,” Ms. Novak says. “I have to introduce Archer to the rest of the staff. Enjoy the rest of your lunch break, Grace.”
I nod, unable to take my gaze off Mr. Graves. “Of course. Thanks for stopping by, you guys.”
Archer Graves outstretches his right hand toward me, smiling a tad too brightly as he waits for me to shake it.
I place my hand in his, and warmth builds in my stomach, sparks flying wherever our skin meets.
Notes of leather and tobacco wash over me, comforting and exciting and familiar all at once.
I try to, but no matter what, I can’t place what the scent reminds me of.
Archer Graves looks deep into my eyes, and I’m hit with a sense of déjà vu. I’m not sure why, but it feels like I’ve seen him somewhere before. Only, I’m positive I haven’t.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Graves.”
“The pleasure is mine.” Instead of releasing me, his grip tightens as he leans in, eyes sparking with an emotion I can’t place. “I’m looking forward to working with you, Grace.”