Any other person would’ve been fooled by her appearance, especially with the baggy clothes and the general nerdy aura she gives off. But there’s something she couldn’t do with her makeover.
She had a habit of touching her chest now and again during that night, as if she was trying to reach for something beneath her flesh and bones. The moment I looked at her, she did that again—brought her hand to her chest and froze.
Those same soft hands with short, elegant bare nails that she couldn’t have changed.
If I hadn’t thought something was fishy due to the whole new look and the lies, I confirmed it when she ran from the lift as if her life depended on it.
And now, I won’t stop until I see the end of it.
Of her and her lies and deceit.
“Am I imagining things or did you just say no to sharing?” Dan licks the chocolate off his fingers slowly, like a cat who just finished eating and is in the mood to play.
“You’re not imagining it.”
“Why?”
The reasons are blurred in my mind and I couldn’t find an explanation even if I tried. One thing’s for sure, though. Neither Daniel nor anyone else will put their hands on Anastasia until I deal with this on my own.
“Because.”
“No, no.” He wraps an arm around my shoulder. “You’re not getting away with “because.” I need reasons, reports, and maybe a medical checkup to verify that you’re not suffering from mental damage so that I can determine whether or not you should revise your will. Tell me the truth, are you dying? Oh, maybe you fell victim to black magic; that would explain why you’re not acting normal.”
“I am fucking normal.” I push his hand away and go to sit behind my desk.
“No, you’re not. Let me think.” He makes a dramatic scene of tapping his forefinger against his lip. “Are you acting this way because of the liar?”
“What if I am?”
“You really want to take her on solo?”
“I do.”
“But I’m the best wingman. You know that.”
“Not this time.”
“Why not this time of all times? Did you hit your head somewhere? Bloody hell. Did she give you an STD? First rule of shagging is to always wrap it up. Come on, mate, you’re not an amateur.”
“It’s not that.”
“Then what is it? Do I really need to get you that checkup? Maybe I could find a priest and do some exorcism shit. I’m telling you, if there’s a demon inside you, I get the rights to sell your story to Hollywood.”
“Shut the fuck up, you sorry cunt.”
“What? Do you have any idea how many people are suckers for this type of real shit?”
“Either help me brainstorm or get the fuck out, Dan.”
He throws his weight on the sofa and flings his arm over the back of it. Then he exaggeratingly flips his chestnut hair back. “I’m all for evil plans. What do you need?”
I knew he wouldn’t say no to trouble. Ever since we moved from London to the States ten years ago, we’ve plotted one disaster after the other.
Or, he has.
For Dan, it’s that rush of adrenaline. For me, it’s the distraction from the shadows that are often perched on my shoulder.
Either way, we never stop.
Stopping means killing ourselves slowly, and neither of us wants that.
Neither of us has the luxury of surrendering to our demons.
I put my elbows on my desk and steeple my fingers under my chin. “What I need is a background check.”
“On who?”
“A tech in the IT department.”
“I like where this is going. But aren’t two geeky guys the only techs there? Wait a fucking minute, did you change preferences? No judgment here, but I kind of need to know if I’m the reason you flipped the coin. I’m hot and all, but no way in fuck, Knox.”
“I could get attracted to the entire world, but not you, fucker. And no, I didn’t change preferences. There’s a new girl in the IT department.”
“Ohhh. Now we’re talking. But why would you need the background check? HR must’ve done their homework.”
“Not enough apparently, because she fooled them.”
“Blimey.” He grins with mischief. “I like her already.”
Don’t. I want to say that, but I stop myself at the last second. He’s already suspicious as it is and I don’t want to add fuel to the fire. Considering his bastard tendencies, he’ll make a story out of this and sell it out to our friends like a pimp.
“She’s a nerd,” I say instead, trying to hold on to my calm while sabotaging his image of her.
“What’s wrong with nerds? They can be hot as fuck.”
“She’s a natural blonde.”
His playful expression disappears. “Pass.”
I can’t help the satisfied smile that breaks on my lips. He has a personal thing against them that he’s harbored for years. Daniel’s type is every woman on the planet aside from blondes—especially natural blondes.
“What are you going to do after you have the background check?” he asks more seriously.
“I don’t know. Play with her, punish her. Torment her. The sky is the limit.”
*
During lunchtime, I head to the IT department. Something I don’t usually do. Dan and Sebastian, another one of the junior partners who’s also Nathaniel Weaver’s nephew, gave me a weird look when I ignored our usual lunch gathering.
But I ignored them.
I’m on a mission that will take place on the “nerds’ floor,” as everyone at W&S calls it.
The receptionist desk is empty and I assume everyone is out for lunch. Everyone except her, because I didn’t notice her in the cafeteria yesterday or just now. Which means she takes her lunch here.
And bingo.
She’s sitting at her desk, her shoulders and back in a straight line as she eats a sandwich with one hand and types something on her keyboard with the other.
Just like yesterday, her hair is black and tied in a stiff bun, and the thick glasses cover half of her face.
Only her lips remain the same, petite and full, but they’re bare, with none of the red from two weeks ago.
Her entire face is free of makeup, but it’s still as delicate as I remember. Pale, too. So pale that I make out the thin veins in her throat when I’m within touching distance.
So pale that I left angry red bruises on her hips when I grabbed her by them while I thrust inside her heat.
At the memory, my dick hardens, tenting against my trousers, and I suppress a groan as I adjust it.
Down, boy. It’s not time for you…yet.
The distinct scent of orange blossoms and jasmine reaches me and I close my eyes to inhale it. Another thing that’s remained the same from that night. Another thing that I can’t stop thinking about.
She smells as delicate as she appears. She might be discreet, but something a lot more wild simmers beneath the surface.
Something I’ve had a taste of and can’t erase from my memories.
“If you were changing identities, you should’ve switched your perfume, too.”
She startles, the chair jolting with her sudden movement, and the sandwich remains suspended near her mouth.
Slowly, too slowly, she rotates the chair so that she’s facing me. Her throat bobs up and down with a thick swallow and I can’t stop watching those fine purple veins moving beneath the transparent skin of her neck.
The neck I held in a chokehold not so long ago, which I itch to repeat. Or maybe that’s not the part I’m most thrilled about. Maybe the part that’s stuck in my head is how I had her completely at my mercy, where her only way out was me.
“You.” It’s either a whisper or a pant, I’m not sure which. What I am sure about, however, is that she didn’t expect me.
Good.
I like taking people by surprise, both inside and outside the courtroom.
My lips curve in a sardonic smirk. “Me.”
“What are you doing here?” She searches around the IT department as if it’s her fortress and I broke entry into it. Or maybe she’s looking for an ally. Unfortunately for her, there is none.
The best way to crush someone? Leave them with no way out.
“Did you really think you could run away and I’d just forget about it?”
“Well, you should.”
“Just because I should, doesn’t mean I would.”