by T. S. Snow
Still, it was going to be a pain in my ass, and I already had too damn much on my plate. I shouldn’t have had to deal with this fucking thing.
I should be trying to find that bastard Ricardo Illudere, to make sure he paid for what he had done, not wasting time trying to fix yet another mess. And even though I’d put every single one of my men to work his case and try to find that bastard, so far, all of them had come up with nothing. So either I was surrounded by incompetent people, or Ricardo was more slimy than I’d expected.
I pushed the file closer, and Marcella finally got the clue, opening the damn folder. Her eyes widened when she started to read what was in it. The myriad of emotions crossing over her face was almost comical.
My sister may be many things, but she wasn’t stupid. Naive, spoiled, and impatient? Yes. But she was smart, and charismatic. When she wanted to be. Most of her failed endeavors came more from a lack of research, and rushing to just get things done, than for lack of brains.
That, and she never actually bothered with the follow up, because she lost interest too damn fast.
“Fuck,” Marcella cursed, bringing a hand to her face. Her eyes found mine, and she grimaced.
So she hadn’t known about her chef’s little scheme, apparently. Whether that was a good thing or not was yet to be decided.
She flipped her carefully styled hair over her shoulder, crossed her legs, and stared me in the eyes. “I can fix this, Logan. I’ll find someone else to run the place and I’ll—”
“No.” I cut her off, before she could get too carried away.
“But I—”
“Listen, Marcella, I don’t have time for this. Nor the patience. If you wanted to clean up the mess, you should’ve done it earlier. Preferably before I got involved.”
“Honestly, Logan, it’s not like I can be expected to just put my life on hold so I can babysit the hired help.”
I raised an eyebrow at her. “That’s exactly what I expect you to do when you’re the one who came up with the project, and pestered both me and our father until he approved your idea. If you’re not going to commit to following through, then do us both a favor and stop trying to get involved with the company. You have enough money from the trust fund that you can be set for life, and the allowance I give you is beyond generous. Go enjoy your life, and stop creating messes for me to clean up. It’s a waste of my time,” I barked. I knew I was being harsh, but I’d coddled her enough, and I was tired. She had to grow the fuck up.
Hurt flashed in my sister’s eyes before she steeled her resolve. Marcella got up from her chair. “Fuck you. That property is in my name; legally, there’s nothing you can do with it. Not without my permission. I’ll turn this around, just you watch me.”
And with that, she left in a fuming wave of Chanel perfume and clicking heels.
I watched the door close with a bang, then I rubbed my eyes.
What a disaster. I should’ve been more diplomatic, or at least measured my words. Now I’d probably get calls from my father and my mother, both of whom wouldn’t relent until I either apologized for hurting Marcella’s feelings, or ended up barking at them, too.
With my luck, they’d end up coming back from their trip and trying to intervene until I agreed to give Marcella even more money so she could fix the mess at the restaurant.
Frustrated, I picked up my phone and texted my assistant.
Logan: Set up a meeting between my sister and the contractor firm we use. Make sure she hires them.
If she was really planning on fixing her own mess this time around, she had better hire people who wouldn’t waste even more of our money. Then she better find an actual chef, and not a crazy wannabe who would get her arrested.
Although, maybe if she had to face the actual consequences of her actions for once, that could serve to teach her a lesson I never could.
Tough love was still a form of love.
That solved, I dialed one of my PIs.
It was about time they got me some answers.
And then maybe I could finally cash in on that date with the alluring Charisma Carter.
28
Charisma
“What happened to your head?”
The words every girl wanted to hear first thing in the morning from the guy who’d kept her awake most of the night with some sweet lovin’.
I did not want to talk about my head. In fact, I’d done my very best to hide the evidence of my crime.
Was it a crime if it was an accident? Could I claim foul play?
Clearly, the universe was punishing me for being greedy and having three boyfriends. This was the divine trying to kill me before I could take full advantage of my whole harem.
In all the scenarios that had run through my head since the little oopsie, however, I did not expect anyone to be able to actually see the evidence of my clumsiness on my forehead like a target that had been painted on me for the sole purpose of embarrassing me.
“I uh. Hit my head,” I answered lamely, trying to come up with any kind of story that would be less likely to mortify me to death, while also making me seem less stupid.
Blaze closed the distance between us and cupped my cheek, his green eyes full of concern as he examined the red spot I had tried to hide with my hair.
Apparently, I’d failed miserably at my task.
“How did this happen? Do you need ice?” His concern made me squirm uncomfortably.
Why did I have to be this damn pale? If I had even a slight tan, then my forehead probably wouldn’t have ended up looking like someone had tried to pick me up by my head.
Fuck’s sake.
New goal: find somewhere beachy and sunny to spend a whole week and get a tan that will make anyone jealous.
Also, find a way to not end up like a burned lobster on steroids while I’m at it.
“No, uh. I don’t need ice, it’s fine. It’s just kind of angry looking but it looks worse than it is. Thanks.” I crossed my fingers, hoping that would be the end of it and Blaze would let the subject drop like a good boy.
I should really have known better.
When were things ever easy?
“Little Spitfire, what happened?” He trailed my forehead bump with his thumb, and I ducked my head, avoiding his eyes at all costs.
He was going to make me say it, wasn’t he?
How dare he be so nice and loving and kind and considerate and worry so much about me? If I’d picked jerks for boyfriends, I would’ve been able to avoid this conversation altogether and then nobody would ever need to know.
I sighed.
“I. Uh. Kinda hit my head. In the sink,” I blurted out.
Blaze blinked and tilted his head to the side.
“How…how did you manage that?” His tone was suspiciously blank. Like he was trying his damned hardest to make it neutral.
I narrowed my eyes at him.
“I was brushing my teeth, and I, uh, sneezed. And then I just sort of…” I trailed off. I didn’t really need to finish that sentence, did I?
I’d banged my head on the sink when I sneezed like some goddamn goober.
This was the kind of thing people recorded videos of and sold online for millions.
It was the kind of embarrassing crap that was told at parties and made the poor clumsy soul want to die.
It was the type of story I would’ve rolled on the floor laughing about even as I felt slightly sorry for the person.
And the kind of thing that apparently was a common occurence in my stupid life.
Fuck me sideways.
There was a beat of silence where Blaze seemed to just stare at me, and then like a dam breaking, his laughter exploded out of him.
Huffing, I walked to the kitchen, planning on banging around the cupboards extra loud out of spite. But the minute I reached the kitchen island, I found a mug filled with extra yummy, steamy coffee waiting for me, and I forgave him a little for laughing at me.
To be fair, if it had been the other way aro
und, I would’ve laughed too.
Damn it.
It was difficult to feel righteously angry at someone—even if mostly out of spite—when you knew if the roles were reversed, you’d do the same thing.
Feeling grumpy, I picked up the coffee, enjoying the caffeine boost to my system that made me go from barely awake—although the whole hitting my head thing had served to startle me awake more than even coffee could, faster too—to mostly functioning.
Today was the day I got to go back to AMIA. I appreciated the days off the boss had given me, but I was sort of eager to get back to work. To have a purpose again.
Plus, I really wanted to figure out what had happened to the resistance members, as well as Ricardo and Cara. Although I was pretty sure neither of them had been arrested—I’d have at least heard about it on the news by now, probably—that didn’t mean AMIA didn’t know where they were hiding, or weren’t en route to catch them. Basically, I wanted to know what the fuck was going on.
And I wanted to know why the hell the boss was avoiding me.
There was also the whole Jess thing. With everything that had happened, I’d kind of forgotten about her. Well, not forgotten just…uh…
Okay, yeah, I’d totally forgotten about her. But if she was being detained, I kind of wanted to talk to her still. I wanted to hear her story, at the very least.
Ugh. There was so much shit to do, so much information I needed. Once more, I felt like I was playing a video game or living inside one, rather, where I’d skipped the tutorial and now I regretted everything.
I needed clear, simple instructions and maybe a starter pack with some cheat codes to make things easier. Maybe the ability to go back and pick beginner mode rather than hardcore.
Whoever was in charge of developing the game of my life should be fired. Just saying.
“Is the coffee tasting bad?” Blaze’s question brought me back from deep within my thoughts. I jumped a little on my stool, before turning to look at him over the shoulder.
I blinked.
“Uh, no?” The coffee was amazing. Why did he think the coffee was bad?
One look at the mug showed me I’d pretty much finished it while I was in my head.
“You were frowning at the cup,” he explained.
“Oh. That. No. I was just…thinking.” I shrugged. Blaze walked behind me and hugged me, putting his chin over my head.
Such a cutely domestic scene.
Okay so maybe the person in charge of my life deserved at least some cookies for giving me such a great harem.
“If you’re worried about going back to AMIA…don’t be. I’ll be there with you the whole time. So even if the Agency did miss someone when the moles were flushed out, I’ll have your back.” His arms tightened a little around me. “I promise, Char. I won’t fail you again.”
I put my mug down so I could sort of hug him backwards. I’d have tilted my head too, but as I was serving as a head rest, it was kind of impossible unless I wanted to hurt Blaze. “You didn’t fail me, Blaze. It wasn’t your fault I was kidnapped.”
It was Cara’s. And mine for being stupid and naive.
“If I had been faster, gotten there quicker…” he trailed off, but I was already shaking my head.
“I shouldn’t have just taken the driver’s word for it, and should’ve called Christian to confirm. Honestly, if you’re going to blame someone, blame me.”
“But if I—”
Oh for fuck’s sake.
I moved quickly, getting up from the stool and ignoring the pain on my knee when I banged it against the counter in my hurry to stand. Then I stood on my tiptoes, and cupped his cheek.
“Are you a Divinator? Have you been hiding your ability to see the future all along?” I asked.
Blaze frowned. “No, of course not. I’m a Futhark.”
I nodded. “And can Futharks use rune magic to see the future?”
Blaze shook his head no.
“Then how the fuck were you supposed to have guessed someone else would’ve snatched me before you could come pick me up? Nobody should have even known where I was. You’re my boyfriend, Blaze, not my keeper. Even if something bad does happen to me again—which, by the way, I’m very much hoping won’t because I’m all tapped out on being a victim—it still won’t be your fault. Unless, obviously, you were the one doing the bad thing, but you won’t hurt me, will you? Not on purpose, anyway.”
“I’ll never hurt you, Little Spitfire. Never again. On purpose or otherwise,” Blaze vowed.
I gave him a big splashy kiss as a reward. “See? Then it’s all good. Now let’s go, before I jump you again; then we’ll never find out what’s going on outside our little sex bubble.”
Groaning, Blaze lowered his forehead to mine. “Damn, did you have to make staying in sound so tempting? Now I want to keep you here to myself. Forever.”
I smiled, tapping his cheek lightly. “C’mon, big guy. Let’s go be good secret agents and shit, and then who knows? Maybe we can find an empty office and do naughty things at work. It’s definitely something on my bucket list.”
The minute we arrived at AMIA’s headquarters, I went straight to Christian’s office.
I wanted information, the kind of information I could only get from him, but I also wanted to know why the hell he was ghosting me.
Oh, he thought he was so clever, giving me time off to recover (not that I was complaining) and giving Andres and Blaze orders to keep me safe, but never actually talking to me.
If I were honest, I was pretty sure I knew why he was avoiding me. Which meant I’d need to have a variation of the discussion I’d had with Blaze this morning. But sometimes, a girl had to do what a girl had to do.
Even if it meant having the same conversation in an endless loop with different people.
The Goddess save me from well-intentioned, over-protective men and their misplaced guilt.
Taking a deep breath so I wouldn’t just enter his office yelling at him to stop babying me, I sent Blaze one last look to make sure he’d stay outside—initially he’d wanted to go in with me, but then I was pretty damn sure the boss would never admit to what was wrong—and knocked.
“Come in,” Christian’s familiar bark sounded kind of weak. Tired, even.
Huh. How long had it been since the last time he actually went home and slept?
Well, I guessed I was about to find out.
I opened the door, ignoring his wide-eyed look, and marched straight to the chair across from his desk.
“Carter,” he said at last just as I was sitting down.
Such a cheerful hello, really. One would think he didn’t like me.
I gave him my most cheerful smile. “Hey boss, what’s up?” I sat down, crossing my legs in front of me. Okay, so, I wasn’t usually this confident, but fake it till you make it, right? Besides, Christian was too damn sharp. If I showed any sign of weakness or of being bothered by him ghosting me, I’d lose the edge I currently had.
Agents had no place for feelings and blah-blah-blah. Whatever. I’d ignored the speech every time I’d heard it.
Christian looked exhausted. Shoulders slumped, clothes wrinkled. His gray hair had turned mostly white with the stress of the past few weeks, not to mention the bald spots I could see starting to appear, and he seemed frail. He looked nothing like the imposing guy who had a presence bigger than life, and who had earned the respect of the heads of the families.
Frowning, I opened my mouth to ask him if he was okay, but Christian sighed, ran a hand on his face, posture slouching, and looked at me with weary eyes.
“Carter...Charisma, I’m sorry. When I brought you to the Agency, I promised you you’d never have to be in the field, and I also ensured your safety. However, I’ve failed you not once, but twice. I feel responsible.”
I totally called it. Not that I was going to say that out loud, but I had totally, one hundred percent called it.
And yeah, I doubted his concern for me was the only thing that ha
d added to his whitening and balding hair, and the whole “haven’t left the office in a week” look, but things piled up.
I knew that better than anyone. Anxiety was my constant companion.
“Sir, with all due respect…” I trailed off, trying to think of the most diplomatic way of saying this. “I don’t think you can take credit for the resistance’s actions. Nor do I think you could’ve prevented any of it from happening. If anything, I’m to blame for my own kidnapping.” I made a face. Second time having to say this out loud today, and it didn’t go down any easier than the first. “As much as it pains me to admit it, I fucked up. I didn’t follow protocol because I had other things on my mind, and I made a rookie mistake by getting in the car with a stranger. I should’ve known you would never send an agent I didn’t know to pick me up, but I wasn’t thinking straight.”
“About that, how did they convince you?” he asked, and I could see the agent in him standing at attention, even if his posture barely changed.
“The man who picked me up said Sidney was busy on a mission, and that you’d sent him instead. He knew where I was, and he knew you’d sent someone to pick me up. So, I, uh…” I waved my hands in a “what can you do” gesture, because, really. I’d learned my lesson and I was definitely never getting in the car with a stranger again, but there was nothing I could do to change the past.
I also refused to think of all the ways things could’ve gone much, much worse because that was what nightmares were for, anyway.
Christian’s entire body tensed, his demeanor changing. If the agent had been peeking out before, now, he was fully in control. It was enough to give a person whiplash.
I didn’t know whether to be glad to see him back in his usual form, or worried for what was coming. Because there was no way I was going to hear good news from him.
“Carter, what, exactly, did they say about Sidney?” He barked the question, his hands crossing on the table in front of him.
I had his full attention now, and it was overwhelming. Gone was the frail grandfather. The man in front of me was as sharp as ever.
