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The alarm goes off at eight, and with a groan, I heave myself to the side of the bed and into the bathroom. I strip off my pajamas and haul my ass into the shower.
Today is a new day.
A new way to accomplish my goals even when I feel like one hundred percent unadulterated shit. I hadn’t checked the phone last night, knowing if I took it with me, it would be another way for Broderick to track me and link me to Devan.
My lower extremities feel heavy and a little mad at me.
After an excessively long shower, I let my hair air dry and brush my teeth before going into the kitchen to brew some tea. I change directions at the last second and head for a matcha latte with almond milk, needing a little extraoomphto face the day.
The cell sits on the counter next to me, the screen black, and I know once I press my hand to it, there will be messages.
Texts. A ton of them, all demanding me to come into the office ASAP.
Maybe they already know where I’d gone last night and who had his mouth on me.
My milk starts to heat in the electric frother, and I twirl a lock of damp hair around my index finger, worry growing in my gut. I’ve never done anything like this before, never been given the opportunity to sleep with someone else. Not since Broderick found me.
He’s been more than enough. Always more than enough because he’s the only one who can give me the roughness, the brutality I need to actually orgasm. Except I’d taken a risk last night, and I’d been close. Too close for comfort, really. How am I going to face Broderick today when I go in?
“Am I an idiot or what?” I ask my cup of matcha.
Finally, my milk has heated, and I add it to the tea, steeling myself and pressing the phone to wake the screen. As I’d suspected, there were about ten missed texts from Blake and one from Broderick himself. A simple word that he knew would bring me into the office.
A glance at the clock at the head of the screen shows it’s not even nine. There’s going to be hell to pay if I’m late.
I somehow make it into the office only five minutes after my text deadline, pointedly not looking at Blake where he sits behind his desk.
“Where’s my donut today?” he asks as I tear through my own stuff and boot up the computer.
“It’s not the right time for sweets, I’ve decided. I’m done trying to figure out what makes you tick,” I tell him with an acidic grin.
“Shame. You were getting close,” he teases.
I turn, lifting my travel mug to my lips and draining the last sips of matcha. “You’re baiting me.”
Being back here has a knot forming in my chest and an echo of yesterday’s words playing on repeat in my head. How I’ll never be the next Broderick Stevens. I’ll never take over the Syndicate, no matter how hard I’ve worked.
I can’t believe it’s all for nothing.
I can’t believe that all the good I’ve done will be wasted.
Blake is staring at me when I lift my eyes to him at last. “What?” I ask.
“You look different.”
Fuck me, is it that obvious? I scowl. “I put in a hard night, okay? Nightmares.”
“The meeting yesterday didn’t end up how you wanted it to be?” he asks dryly.
Blake is nothing more than a glorified assistant. He’s never been able to sit in on any of the meetings, and I’ve always wondered if he resents me for what I’ve accomplished, for the position I’ve been raised to, or if he’s content to stay where he is. Never growing, never evolving past his current place.
Then again, I earned my reputation. Through blood, sweat, tears, and too many days with my legs open to feel sorry for Blake, whether he’s got a serious lack of ambition or not.
The computer is up and running, and I log on to my chat room, checking in with the rest of my hackers. Getting a feel for what’s been going on because it definitely seems as though I’ve been slacking. At least since Everett’s death.
All’s well on the western front, at any rate.
Instead of baiting the seriously fine detective with the mouth skills of an ancient sex god, I need to focus on finding out what happened to Everett. And Rahim. And Landon.
