She’s thrown away so much for only superficial things. Her life is poorer for it. And in doing so, I have lost a mother. What happens if I ever decide to have children? Will they have a grandmother who cares about them? Or one who only bothers to try to buy their love?
“You ready for lunch?” Cynthia asks.
I glance up from my desk, giving her a quick nod, grateful for the distraction.
She waits while I quickly shutdown the computer and switch out the phone so any calls will be redirected to leave a message. Then I grab my handbag out from my top drawer and quickly check to make sure my wallet and cell aren’t left behind. I have done this before, not noticing my wallet had fallen out of my handbag and had the awkward moment of not being able to pay for my meal. Luckily, I was out with friends when this happened, so they were able to cover me. I don’t want that to be something regular, though.
“What is this?” Cynthia asks, reaching out to my still open drawer and grabbing something shiny.
I stare down at her hand to see an unfamiliar tennis bracelet resting in her grasp.
“No idea,” I tell her honestly, going back to my bag to grab my lip gloss to refresh.
“This is my bracelet,” she snaps, her tone bringing my attention back to her.
“It is?”
“The one Vanessa gave me for our anniversary. The one I lost two months ago.” She sounds shrill now.
I give the slim bracelet a closer look, finally recalling the one time I saw it. Cynthia was showing it off to Ava and me. I recall her fake excitement over it, since it doesn’t suit her at all. Cynthia never wears jewelry, so a flashy diamond bracelet is definitely not her style.
“Oh, right,” I finally agree, unsure over the daggers she is directing at me.
“What is it doing in your drawer?” she demands.
“I have no idea.” I glance back down at my open drawer, seeing a heap of makeup spread out along the bottom.
“Oh, really? It just magically appeared?” she yells, moving her hands to her hips as she takes a step closer, getting in my face.
“Back away,” I bark at her, not liking this new side of her.
“You stole it! How could you do that?” she demands, slapping the edge of my desk.
“I didn’t steal your damn bracelet!”
“Then what is it doing in your desk? You know I lost it. You know how furious Vanessa was at me! How could you do that? Do you seriously hate her that much?” Her voice hitches on the last question, her lips quivering like she’s trying hard not to cry.
I want to snap at her that yes, I absolutely hate Vanessa. She is a huge bitch and there is no scenario where I’m not happy to see the back of her. But I would never steal the bracelet to purposely cause problems.
Apparently, she reads my hatred of Vanessa without me having to utter a word.
“You and Ava have never supported my relationship. You’ve always been against Vanessa. Do you know how hard that has made things for me? Do you know how difficult it is to always keep you guys separate? And now I find out you’re trying to sabotage us?” Her voice breaks at the end, and I instantly crumble.
“I’m not trying to sabotage anything!” I quickly assure her, reaching out to touch her, but she steps out of my reach.
“Oh, really? Because this”—she holds out the bracelet so it’s at eye level—“is pretty indisputable evidence that you are!”
“I didn’t put that in my desk. I have no idea how it got there.” There is an edge to my voice as I start to get over being accused of something I didn’t do.
“You use that drawer every day to store your bag; how have you not noticed it sitting there for two months?”
“It wasn’t there before,” I rush out, thinking back to yesterday and feeling positive that it wasn’t there. A shiny diamond bracelet isn’t likely something I would miss. Then again, how did I miss it this morning when I got here? I have been at my desk all morning, so it must have already been there.
“Why the hell did it just turn up there now? Who put it there?” she demands with a hysterical edge to her tone.
Good question, and not one I have an answer to.
“This wasn’t in here yesterday. Go over the footage and you’ll see I wasn’t the one to put it in there,” I tell her, figuring I would get Declan to do the same thing.
“So, you’re denying stealing my bracelet, but not hating Vanessa?”
“Come on, Cynthia; you know what she’s like. It’s not that Ava and I don’t like her; it’s that she never liked us. We tried for you at the start. We met her with an open mind, and she was a total bitch to us. We tried to give her another chance. We gave her plenty to begin with. She made it clear she didn’t like us, so we just stopped trying.”
“You have made it impossible for us to be happy!” she accuses, and I frown at her.
“You know that’s not true. And honey”—I reach out and grab her hand, taking it as a good sign that she allows me this time—“if you’re not happy, then you need to address that. You deserve to be happy.”
She snorts at me, removing her hand quickly and taking another step back. “You say this like you have any idea how to be in a relationship. Vanessa and I have been together for two years. What’s your longest relationship? You and Declan fucking for a couple weeks doesn’t make you some expert.”
I take a deep breath to calm myself, close to reaching my limit and blowing a gasket.
“No, that wouldn’t make me an expert. But I know you, and I know you haven’t been happy for a long time. You put up with Vanessa, and I have no idea why. You’re an amazing person. Smart, funny, sweet, and so beautiful. You deserve someone who appreciates you, not resents you for all you have,” I say gently, hating that she is already shaking her head in denial.
“This isn’t about what you think I want! If I choose Vanessa, then you guys are supposed to support me!” She sounds a little hysterical now. I can’t help wondering if there is something more to this outburst.
“We have supported you! She treats you like crap, and we keep our mouths shut. We’ve been waiting for you to come to us, and you never do. You seem content to put up with that shit, so we support you by keeping close and making sure you know that we’re here whenever you need us!”
“And does that support extend to you stealing my things? Causing fights between Vanessa and me? Creating tension and drama? Is that you supporting me?”
“Cynthia, I did not steal your bracelet, and I’m starting to become hurt that you would even accuse me of such a thing. You know me. You know I would never do that. Check the cameras if you need proof to see who put it in there, but I did not do this.”
She stares at me for a moment, her cheeks flushed with anger and eyes shiny from unshed tears.
I don’t like this. Cynthia and I have never had a fight, just as neither of us have ever fought with Ava. I don’t do drama, and I don’t want to start now.
Instead of replying, she storms off, her cries echoing down the hallway as she rushes to the bathroom.
I contemplate going after her, but it’s obvious she needs some space and isn’t going to listen to me.
How can she even think I would do that to her? I might not like Vanessa, but I’m happy to let that train wreck run its course. No need to speed things along when it’s already heading for an end. Cynthia is the only one clueless about that.
As any good friend knows, you can’t stop fate. So, while I might not be able to talk Cynthia out of that toxic relationship, I can promise to be there when it breaks down.
Shaking my head, I double-check that the phone at my desk has been switched over, and then I make my way toward Declan’s office, leaning against the doorway when I notice it’s open.
Zander has an open-door policy. Generally, the only reason his office is shut is because he’s in a meeting with a client, with one of the guys, or an informant … or he’s getting work nooky from Ava. Since he’s always had this open-door policy, the guys tend to
mirror him.
I still ask, anyway, before coming in.
“Hey, you got a sec?”
“For you, always,” he replies distractedly, searching over something on his monitor before he glances up at me and sees my face. “What’s wrong?” He looks back down at his screen before giving me his attention again. “Aren’t you supposed to be having lunch with Cynthia?”
“We had a fight,” I admit, walking into his office and closing his door behind me. “Can you do me a favor?”
“Of course.” He stands and moves over to me, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me against him.
“Can you look over the security feeds for after I left yesterday until I arrived this morning?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Cynthia lost a bracelet a while back, and it just appeared in my locked drawer under my desk. I want to know who put it there, because it definitely wasn’t me and it wasn’t there yesterday when I left.”
“Sure thing.” He takes my hand as he walks back around his desk, and I lean my ass against the side as he pulls up the security video.
Fast forwarding through the night with the view encompassing my desk, we see not one single person approach it from after I left to when I arrived this morning. Given I never left my desk this morning, there is no way anyone slipped it in without me knowing.
“I don’t understand. I swear it wasn’t there yesterday,” I mutter, wondering if I’m going crazy.
What if it was there and I just didn’t notice? It isn’t like I haven’t been distracted by Declan lately. What if it was in there yesterday? Or even for a handful of days and I just never noticed?
That still doesn’t explain what it was doing inside my drawer. I certainly never put it there, and I am the only one with a key for the lock. It’s a simple lock that I’m sure any of the guys here could pick in their sleep, but why go through the bother? What was the incentive? To have Cynthia and me fighting?
“Are you sure it wasn’t there earlier in the week?” Declan suggests, his gaze concerned.
“I … I guess it could have been,” I reluctantly concede.
“Is this important? Do you need me looking deeper into this?”
I know he would drop everything to do that for me if I asked. Any of the guys here would. Cynthia and I might be fighting at the moment, but it’s good to remember how much support I have and how lucky that makes me.
“No. I don’t know. I know I didn’t put it in there, but I’m not sure it’s a big deal. The most it’s done is caused Cynthia to be angry at me, but I already know we’ll get past it.”
And that is the thing about true friendship. Fighting and bitchiness isn’t fun, but it doesn’t mean the end of a friendship. It might be the first big bump Cynthia and I have had, yet I’m confident that is all it is—a bump.
“Come here.” Declan reaches out and pulls me down on his lap.
My legs flop over one side as I rest my head under his chin and against his warm chest. He holds me close, and I wonder if he might try for something here, or maybe I’m hoping he will. Instead, he just holds me, wrapping me in his protective embrace. It solidifies this is one of my favorite places to be.
The comfort and support Declan gives me is worth a million hours in any therapist’s chair. Already I feel my mind settling, my body relaxing, and content in knowing that everything will be okay.
“Since I can steal you for lunch, feel like getting some takeout and hiding in my office with me?” he offers.
“That sounds perfect.”
And it is.
***
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I ask Declan again, glancing over his worn boxing gloves and low hung shorts.
The man is shirtless, sweat glistening over his chest, since we have been warming up on the bags and with some sprints.
I honestly have no idea how I was never distracted by Declan before. I mean, before we hooked up, I wasn’t dead. I knew he was good-looking, but it felt detached before. Like how a doctor likely looks at a patient who needs urgent care. You see the problem, you’re likely aware of the person, but you don’t actually see them. He was also an asshole, a jerk, and I was already mentally preparing for the next dig to come my way.
Now I get unfettered access to look at him with no fear of being called out on it.
“Are you even hearing me?” Declan asks as he lightly taps my shoulder with his padded glove.
“You’re really fucking hot,” I tell him, and it’s not the first time tonight.
After my shitty rest of the day, where I had another phone call from my mom, I needed to let off some steam. Declan suggested we go to the gym, but not the work gym. Instead, we are at one a few blocks from his place. The gym at work is good, but Declan said he wanted something bigger tonight.
Now that we are standing in a ring opposite each other, I realize he wanted me at this gym so he could give me some pointers on protecting myself. He knows I can hit, obviously, but he’s concerned about me defending myself in case I ever need to.
It’s rather sweet, except Zander has already been over this stuff with me. And after my college stalking incident and moving into the apartment my father got me, that didn’t mean I wasn’t freaked out, or that Zander wasn’t worried. So, he came down every weekend he could manage and kicked my ass until I was able to hold my own.
Declan is obviously not aware of this, and I like the idea of surprising him. It works in poker, so no reason it won’t work to my advantage for this.
He grins at me, bouncing gently from side to side.
I’m pretty sure if I were to do the same, his smile would die. Already, his jaw basically hit the floor when I came out wearing shorts and a sports bra. I’m fairly certain the extra-long warm up was more about giving him time to gain some control over himself than what was needed for this fight.
“So, what are the rules?” I ask, my eyes drifting over his body again.
“Take the opponent to the floor and hold for ten seconds.”
“No off-limit areas?” I ask as I make eye contact with his crotch.
“No way will you ever get close to that area, unless you’re naked and we’re somewhere private. But, if you think you can manage it, then good luck.” He is smirking now. I find this cocky Declan rather hot. Also, I can’t wait to see his face when I do knock him to the ground.
“So, not regular boxing rules?”
“You even know what those rules are?”
My hesitation is obvious answer enough.
“Just try to get me to the ground. I promise not to hurt you,” he assures me, and I think I hear some patronizing in his tone.
I can’t see Declan hurting me no matter what, but it is a little insulting that he thinks he needs to assure me, like he could if he wanted to.
He hasn’t seen me move yet.
“That sounds kinda boring. How about I bet you can’t hurt me?” I smirk, knowing I caught his attention.
“Bet me what?” His eyes light up in interest.
“I win this, then I get to choose the next movie we go see.”
He groans, purely because he said the movie I wanted to see the other night made him want to stab his eyes and ears.
Melodramatic much?
“Fine,” he grounds out. “Same stakes for me then.”
I nod, and after putting in the mouth guards, we proceed to bounce around each other for at least a full minute. I want him to take the first shot, but he is obviously waiting for me.
“What are you waiting for?” I finally ask, not sure how clear it comes out. Stupid mouth guard.
“You.”
“Fine,” I huff, faking a right hook, but actually crouching low and sideswiping Declan’s leg.
He grunts at my kick, but I don’t have enough force behind it, so all it ends up being is a kick. I don’t have time to dwell on this as I then have to dodge his glove. I roll on the ground and quickly snap back to my feet, getting in a shot to his kidneys, before I need to duck a
gain.
This goes on and on until we are both covered in pools of sweat and breathing heavily. We stop a couple times for some water; otherwise, we are focused and not getting anywhere fast. That is, until he knocks me down then presses his body over mine to hold me down.
Since this is primarily the position Zander taught me how to get out of, I easily get free of him, our sweaty bodies only helping make that simpler. When I get him down, I dig down with my knees in his back and twist his arm in a position where he would have to dislocate his shoulder to free himself. It’s awkward with the gloves on, but I manage to hold on for the needed ten seconds then let him go, cheering loudly over my win.
“I’m going to choose the girliest, most romantic movie, with as much naked male bodies and talking as I can get!” I tease, making him wince.
“You were holding out on me. You know how to fight.” He tries to sound accusing, but we are both still breathing heavily and the mouth guards make us both sound less serious.
“Zander might have showed me a thing or two,” I admit, which gets me narrowed eyes.
“Round two?” he offers, and I nod, taking my mouth guard out to guzzle down some more water.
I feel looser and my mind less cluttered already. I’m still upset to be fighting with Cynthia, but I do feel much better than what I did when we first walked in. I needed to let out some excess energy, and it doesn’t hurt to be surrounded by a half-naked Declan.
Round two, unfortunately, quickly goes to Declan, who just as quickly tells me about the black comedy he is taking me to see, which I already know I won’t understand.
Round three ends up a tie because I was able to knock Declan down, but he claims I cheated from flashing him a nipple to distract him. I remind him that he said there were no rules, and when he just as quickly flips me over to suck on my neck, his groin in a precarious position, I don’t even notice the twenty seconds he has me technically pinned under him when I forfeit. Therefore, I concede that one as a tie.
We have enough time for one last round, and this one ends a little more final than the others. Mainly because, while we are sparing for almost twenty, drawn-out, sweaty minutes, this time I get in a hit. One that knocks Declan to the ground.
I Knocked Him Out (Love at First Crime Book 2) Page 18
