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“It’s Andy,” she mutters, before promptly shutting her mouth and scurrying away when I snap my head back towards her.
“Stop scaring the help, Wicked.” A rough timber voice whispers in my ear, causing me to jump a mile out of my seat, my heart racing. It’s not easy to sneak up on me. I may be blind, but I’m attuned to my surroundings in a way people can never understand. And it’s frustrating as hell that Kai Zhao is the only one who seems to get past it effortlessly. “You know, my cock is bigger than your forearm too. Wanna take it for a test ride?”
“How can that be possible, Kai? What’s that thing people say about Asian guys again?”
“You wound me, Wicked. You know that’s just a baseless stereotype. But if you’re really worried, I can let you feel it with your hands and you can reallyseehow wrong it is. Isn’t that how the blind see if you’re attractive or not, they have to touch you? You can touch me, Wicked, you might even like it.” His voice takes on a seductive purr that seems far too sexy when combined with his naturally rough tone. I mean, it’s really not fair.
Kai Zhao is the department's biggest man-whore. He’ll flirt with literally anything wearing a skirt. Seriously, I put a skirt on Snitch once and I swear to all that is holy, he was far more friendly to my little trash panda that day.
Okay, so I might be exaggerating slightly with that one, but Kai really is trouble with a capital T. He’s like the far sexier, rugged version of Gong Yoo. You know, the guy who played the collector on Squid Game? The one who smacked the shit out of the main character to test him for entry to the games?
You can thank my nana for giving me that comparison. She has quite the lady boner for Gong Yoo.
Kai only stands somewhere around five-foot-ten, but everything about him is smooth, suave, and muscled. He’s a walking, talking sex magnet, has an ego the size of a damn stadium, and the facetious nature of a devious trickster that rivals even mine.
I’m pretty sure he’s had to file multiple restraining orders against women who grew far too attached to him, too. How can you blame them, though, when they got a taste of Kai-Fucking-Zhao and were told they could never take a bite ever again?
That–and many other reasons–are why I stay far away from the tempting and tantalizing man. He would pick me up, give me the best night of my life, and then drop me out on the curb with yesterday’s garbage. He would ruin me.
No fucking thank you.
“No thank you, Kai. I take good care of my pussy–you only get one after all–and it’s far too great of a risk with the diseases you could be carrying.” I smile sweetly at him and kick my feet up on my desk, realizing from the scraping of ceramic against wood that I just narrowly missed knocking over my now room temperature cup of coffee in the process.
Smooth.
“That’s cold, Wicked. I-” Whatever he was about to say is cut off when a door slams open and a shout rings out.
2
“Wicked! Nic! My office now!” The chief’s angry bellow catches me off guard and I jump in place. Snitch and Gizmo pick up on my switch in mood and scurry up and down between my shoulders and lap, not knowing what to do with themselves.
“Ooooh, someone’s in trouble!” Kai sings-songs in my ear, a smile distorting his voice as he trails his fingers over the exposed skin of my neck before walking away. A shiver rakes up my spine at the warmth his touch brings, but I shake it off, stretching my neck from side to side and rolling my shoulders before grabbing my cane and standing.
Damn. The chiefdoessound mad. What the fuck did I do this time? And what does it have to do with the douche-canoe?
Squeaks accompany me as I–by pure muscle memory alone–navigate my way through the many desks and cubicles of the department and make my way to Alan’s office. A hiss alerts me to the fact that either Snitch or Gizmo had to herd an oblivious passerby out of my path as I walk by.
“Good boys!” I coo. A pulse of anger, laced with a need for violence, emanates from the person I fully intend to ignore. But when a passing echo of their foot trying to kick at one of my trash panda’s bodies projects to me, I lose it. Tuning straight into their psyche, I face them head on. “Ah, Sharon, is it? How is that rash going?”
I raise my voice enough to know it can be heard around the office. Her personal secret, that was just a passing thought of discomfort, ended up being the perfect ammo for me to use against her.
I do have quite the big mouth. Oops.
“Excuse me?!” Her screechy voice causes my ear drums to go on the fritz as it reaches decibels I didn’t think were possible.
“Hey, calm down. I don’t think anyone here cares that you have a massive rash on your hoo-ha. Well…” I focus harder, stepping closer to her, yet projecting my voice louder to the room in general. “No one, that is, except for Brandon…Brandonandhis wife. You might want to get that checked out, B. Wouldn’t want your wife to know you’re dipping your stick in another woman’s kool-aide, would ya?”
Ah, well. It doesn’t matter now. By the end of the day, this scene right here will have reached her ears. Do I feel bad? Nope. No way in fucking hell. No one even thinks about hurting what’s mine and gets away with it. Plus,you know, who likes a homewrecker?
Bitch.
“You fucking cunt!” A decidedly masculine voice shouts from a few feet away, violence emanating from him in suffocating waves. A crash and flurry of activity clue me in to him now charging my way and I let out a squeak rivaling Gizmo and Snitch’s as I spin and throw my cane out in front of me in the direction I hope he’s coming from.
I needn’t have bothered, though.
Most times I don’t really get affected by my lack of everyday sight, but occasionally, in moments like these, I’d give my right arm to get a clear picture of what’s happening. Because all I’m aware of is the sound of ripping material, a scream of pain, and then silence, before the entire office is filled with raucous laughter.
I try my best to tune in to the mental projections around me to find out what’s happening, but the room is far too…busy. There’s just too many, and each one is carrying the mental strength of a freight train. I can’t grasp just one person’s mentality and my face starts to heat at my position, my eyes watering slightly as frustration takes hold.
