What the fuck am I doing? I ask myself for the thirtieth time since Wynter’s water broke an hour ago and Everett started teaching me about security systems at the same time as helping his fiancée breathe through her contractions. I’m not sure how he managed to multitask such polar opposite tasks, but he looked the calmest he had in months as he did.
She’s only thirty-six weeks, so she should have had a bit more time, which is why today was her last day of work and we were just wrapping up a handover for her job. I’ve been anxious about taking her role while she’s on maternity leave, but she’s adamant I’m capable, and frankly, ever since she found out she was pregnant, she’s been scary as hell and I’m not brave enough to argue with her. Do I think I’m capable of being the CFO of a Fortune 500 company? Not in the slightest. But Wynter’s confidence is enough for the both of us apparently.
I’m late. There was so much chaos that followed Wynter’s water breaking that by the time Everett taught me everything I needed to know and we managed to get her into Everett’s SUV to take her to the hospital, I was already half an hour late to The Circle, the last place in town I feel like going on a Friday night.
I’ve never been much for loud places and drinking, probably because I don’t really have many friends, but an illegal fighting ring seems much worse than either of those things normally are, and somewhere I most definitely should not be spending any time. And yet, I pull my bag tight against my side, full of technology I don’t understand because Everett seems to think the crash course he gave me was enough to make me understand computers past how to open Microsoft Word.
But the worst part about this whole situation? I have to see Tommy again. After I told him to leave my apartment a few weeks ago, I haven’t been able to get him off my mind. And what’s worse? I feel his presence everywhere I go. Sometimes I swear I can still smell him in my apartment, that I see him on the street when I walk to work, and that his intense blue eyes burn into me even though I can’t see him. But that’s ridiculous. It’s my mind playing tricks on me, and hey, he’ll probably have someone else looking after the security tonight, which means I might not even cross paths with him. Okay, so maybe it’s wishful thinking, but if I don’t tell myself something, I’m not going to get through the front door.
The thought of coming face to face with Tommy again has anxiety bubbling low in my belly. After the way I acted, how irrational I was when he told me he was taking care of me because he wanted to, not just because he was being told to, I’m not sure how I’m ever meant to look the man in the eye again, and I’d really hoped I’d have more time. A few years would have sufficed. But alas, I’ve never been that lucky.
I step onto the curb and look up at the innocent warehouse before me. You’d never know there was something sinister on the other side of the walls, but then again, I guess that’s the point. The Saint James family doesn’t do anything by halves.
I hesitate for another few seconds before straightening my shoulders and striding toward what I can only assume is the front door. Two large security guards are talking, their bodies relaxed despite the clientele they must be seeing. The fight is due to start soon, which means there are already a significant number of people on the other side of the door, so why do they seem so calm?
“You lost, sweetheart?” the taller one calls out to me as I get closer.
His bald head is covered with a black baseball cap, and black fabric stretches across his broad shoulders.
The other man is a few inches shorter, but his build is stocky and wide. Maybe I understand why they’re not worried because who would be dumb enough to face off against these two?
“Uh, no.” I shake my head. “I work for the Saint James family. Everett had an emergency he had to attend to and he sent me to check the system.”
Their eyes rake over my body and I’m suddenly self-conscious of the tight black dress I’m wearing. I don’t normally show my curves off so much, but Wynter has been trying to encourage me to be more confident because she thinks it will help when I’m dealing with the board of directors. Somehow, I don’t think it’s my clothing that makes that a daunting task, but I wasn’t going to argue with her when she was nine months pregnant and scary as hell.
“Nice try, babe.” The short one turns away, all but dismissing me without another word, but the taller one’s eyes continue to roam over my body like I’m his next meal. The scrutiny has uncertainty rolling through my stomach,
“I…” Words catch in my throat as panic rises in my throat. I can’t disappoint Everett and Wynter, not when they’re on their way to the hospital. I have to get inside before the fight starts.
“Just another groupie wanting to get in with the fighters,” the tall one says, finally dragging his eyes away from my curves, but still, my skin crawls.
“I’m not a groupie,” I snap. “I’m Wynter Saint James’s assistant, and I suggest you let me if you want to remain employed.”
The threat isn’t completely empty. If I told my boss, or any of her family really, that these men had been anything less than helpful, they would find themselves unemployed, but I shouldn’t threaten it.
They pause to look at one another before both bursting with laughter like I’m the biggest joke they’ve ever heard. “That all sounds very well and good, princess, but why would they send an assistant?” The word rolls off the smaller one’s tongue with a sneer.
“Because Wynter went into labor, not that it’s any of your business.” I’m not sure what I’m going to do if they don’t let me in because the system needs to be reset before the fight to make sure the cops can’t get in if they get wind of the fight, and that if a riot breaks out, it can be easily dispersed…or at least I think that’s what Everett said as Wynter screamed through her first contractions.
They don’t get a chance to respond because the door swings open behind them and deep-blue eyes full of rage meet mine. Tommy’s furious, and I can’t tell if he’s angry at me or if he’s mad about these assholes giving me the runaround. I’m really hoping it’s the latter of the two because being on Tommy’s bad side is a death sentence.
