CHAPTER NINETEEN
CJ
“Love is a state of temporary psychosis.”
- Sigmund Freud
Leaving Blake asleep in bed this morning had been torture. I’d have preferred to stay there with her all day, making love and holding her close until the memory of that asshole and his hand wrapped around her neck was nothing but a distant memory.
The fucker was lucky to be alive. When I’d walked in and seen his hand wrapped around her neck, everything went red. I’d taken lives before when I was in the line of fire and it was kill or be killed. It never got easier, and knowing you didn’t have a choice didn’t lessen the guilt. But I could have killed Dan without an ounce of regret. I wanted to choke the life out of him like he’d been doing to Blake. To show him what it felt like to be helpless.
If Blake hadn’t stopped me, it would have been me walking out of that apartment in cuffs while Dan was carried out in a body bag.
It probably should have worried me that I would so easily have taken his life, but when it came to Blake, there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do. The instinct to protect others, to put my life on the line, was ingrained in me so deeply it could never be reversed. With Blake, though, it was something else entirely. My need to keep her safe couldn’t be credited to my training in the military, or even the values instilled in me by my parents through years of watching over my sisters.
I loved Blake. I knew that with a certainty now, and my protectiveness of her was primal, innate; something completely beyond my control. There wasn’t a damn thing I wouldn’t do for her. I prayed that one day the image of another man’s hands on her would fade away. Every time I closed my eyes I saw her feet dangling while her eyes bulged out of her head and her face started to turn so red it was almost purple.
My fist connected with the punching bag over and over as I imagined it were Dan’s body. I unleashed all my rage and aggression with crazed, sloppy punches, not stopping until my lungs screamed for air and my arms became weak.
Maybe realizing I was in love with Blake would have freaked me the hell out if I hadn’t already been too full of murderous anger to process it, but if anything it felt freeing. Like the part of me that still tried to lock all of my emotions inside a steel cage had been completely decimated. My life was changing, I was changing, and it was all because of Blake. Funny that for so long I’d lived my life in such a regimented way that I never had to worry about surprises, only to find that Blake’s unpredictability was one of the things I loved most about her.
A smile tugged at my lips, just thinking about Blake and how there was never a dull moment where she was concerned.
God, I was turning into a fucking sap.
“You look happy,” Liam said, startling the shit out of me when I walked into my office a half hour later after showering and getting ready downstairs. He had his feet propped up on my desk as he reclined back in my chair. After a few seconds of me glaring, he rolled his eyes, dropped his feet and walked around the desk to sit in the visitor chair. “I’m assuming Blake put that smile on your face. Are you here early so you can doodle “Blake + CJ = Forever” on all your notebooks?”
“You’re such an ass,” I grumbled. Liam shot me a shit-eating grin.
“I know.”
He propped his feet up on my desk again, to which I promptly shoved them off hard enough to make him teeter in his chair.
“What are you doing in my office?”
“I was dropping off the Peters file and heard you come in. Annoying the shit out of you first thing in the morning was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up.”
The fact that Liam was at the office at six in the morning to finish up paperwork didn’t surprise me. All my men were as dedicated as I was to the job. It was the reason I’d needed to hire Blake in the first place. We were all so fucking good at our jobs that we couldn’t keep up anymore, and of course, organization and things like paperwork were the first aspects to take a hit. Not that I was complaining. If we hadn’t been doing such a shitty job of keeping up then we wouldn’t have needed to hire Blake in the first place.
“You know, I gotta give Mamma Rose credit. I never thought her hair-brained scheme would work, but look at you. All love sick and pussy whipped.”
I threw him a glare before I registered the first part of what he’d said.
“Why would you give credit to my mom?”
He laughed. “Dude, your mom orchestrated all of this. That first day when Blake came for the interview and they disappeared to talk? She told Blake if she’d continue screwing with you and getting under your skin then she’d ensure her job was safe. We all thought she was starting to lose her mind or something. I mean, why would she bribe someone to piss you off? But obviously she knew what she was doing.”
I stopped listening about two sentences in. My mind started feverishly recalling every interaction, every moment spent with Blake. In my gut, I knew it wasn’t all fake. If my mom did her usual meddling thing in the beginning, her motives would have been to help, not hurt. And I knew for a fact she’d never bribe anyone to sleep with me, so the physical aspect of things were indisputably genuine.
Still, the sting of betrayal and nigglings of doubt wouldn’t go away. How much of what happened between Blake and I was real, and how much of it was part of a ruse?
I’m not sure how long I stood there, my thoughts warring with each other, but by the time I found my way back to the present Liam was gone. I hadn’t noticed him leave. If he’d said anything else, I hadn’t heard it. I was too busy trying not to let my thoughts run away with themselves. Overreacting wouldn’t help anything, nor would throwing out accusations or making assumptions. The best course of action would be to sit on the information, give myself time to fully digest it and then talk to Blake about it later when I was calm.
Two hours of mind numbing paperwork passed by in a blur, and before I knew it, there was a knock at my door. I didn’t even have a chance to respond before Clarissa came bursting in. Every time I was forced to deal with the biggest pain the ass client I’d ever had, I had to hold back a groan. Clarissa was the epitome of the kind of spoiled entitlement that came with growing up with more money than God. Her dad owned a lucrative software company before he retired and went into politics. The man was arrogant as hell and treated Clarissa like she walked on water, which made her behave like a brat.
“Christopher, darling,” Clarissa cooed, sounding like an elderly British woman returning from her afternoon tea instead of a twenty-nine year old Manhattanite. I plastered on as much of a fake smile as I could muster and bit the inside of my cheek. Honestly, I couldn’t stand the woman, but schmoozing was part of the job. It was the part I hated the most, but a necessary evil I couldn’t avoid. Pissing off a rich and powerful man in the city of which I did business wasn’t high on my priority list, so if enduring her annoying company once a week was what it took to keep myself from gaining an enemy, then so be it.
“What can I do for you, Clarissa?”
She took the time to gaze lustfully at my body, being so blatant it bordered on pathetic. I fought not to shift uncomfortably.
“Do I have to have a reason to visit?”
Fucking loaded question. Of course she needed a reason. We weren’t friends, and in the months I’d been forced to work with her, I’d managed to politely turn down her advances mostly successfully. Once a week she scheduled a meeting with me under the guise of it being business, but all that wound up happening during those meetings was me dodging her grabby hands. I knew it was only a matter of time before I had to come out and actually reject her, but I’d been holding out hope she would somehow move on before it came to that.
Her carefully manicured nails started trailing up the buttons of my dress shirt. I gently grabbed her wrist and ignored the flare of heat in her eyes. The woman could not take a hint.
“I’m sorry, but I have another client I have to meet with soon and I don’t want to end up rushing you, so why don’t we get started?”
Clarissa stuck out her bottom lip in an exaggerated pout. She was gorgeous, I’d give her that. Her long, blonde hair was shiny and full of waves. Bright blue eyes framed by long, black lashes, a pert nose and lips that were pouty even without the exaggeration. Perfect sized chest, tiny waist, flared hips and legs for days. She was every man’s dream. Admittedly, if she weren’t a client, I would have given in to her advances a long time ago, but I didn’t screw clients.
And now there’s Blake…
Naturally, the second Clarissa decided to make a grab for my dick, the door swung open and Blake came rushing in.
“So sorry I’m late. The police called to tell me-“
It took all of two seconds for Blake to take in the scene before her. My hand wrapped around Clarissa’s wrist while her other hand covered my crotch and her breasts pressed up against my chest.
If I’m being completely honest, I expected Blake to assume the worst and run out crying. Or punch me. I should have known better though. Blake never did a damn thing like you’d expect her to. Instead of freaking the hell out, she straightened to full height and honed in on Clarissa. Her mouth tipped up in a condescending grin, her arms crossed as she straightened to her full height and stuck out her hip and her eyes…
I shuddered. Too many emotions in those eyes to even be able to process. I was surprised Clarissa didn’t burst into flames right there in my office under the heat of Blake’s glare.
I dropped Clarissa’s hand and took a giant step back from her, swiftly removing myself from the crossfire. The two women stared each other down like they were in some sort of Mexican stand off. I started to wonder if either of them were ever going to speak, or if I should prepare for them to simultaneously launch themselves at each other with their claws out. In the end, Blake was the one who spoke first.
Her smile turned syrupy sweet, but her eyes never lost their heat. “I’m sorry, but we don’t allow any soliciting in the office. You’ll have to go back to your corner and try to lure men into the alley with the offer of a twenty-dollar blow job the old fashioned way.”
Beside me, Clarissa gasped. I, on the other hand, went back and forth between anger and amusement. Honestly, I couldn’t decide if I wanted to laugh my ass off or yell at Blake for being unprofessional. In the end, Clarissa made the decision for me when she snapped her head in my direction and let out an indignant huff.
“Are you going to let her speak to me that way?” She demanded, looking on the verge of a tantrum. I half expected her to stomp her foot. When I didn’t respond right away, her eyes narrowed, and I knew shit was about to get real. “Either you fire her or I’ll be making a phone call to my father. I’m sure he’d love to hear how the company he’s invested tens of thousands of dollars into accused his daughter of being a prostitute.”
I sighed internally. What the fuck was I supposed to do? Clarissa had been behaving inappropriately, but Blake had handled the situation all wrong. Did I reprimand my girlfriend and cause what I was sure to be a huge fight? Or did I piss off the client whose dad could probably destroy me with one phone call?
With only a split second to decide, I went with my gut.
“Blake, you’re dismissed for the day. We’ll discuss this later.”
I could tell by the hurt on her face that I was going to pay for my decision later. I could only hope that Blake would understand once I explained. This wasn’t personal; it was about the business I’d built from the ground up. I employed more than a dozen people now, more than half of which were veterans. They counted on me to remain professional and ensure their jobs were safe. To put all that in jeopardy because Blake might see it as some sort of betrayal just wasn’t an option I could afford.
Workplace relationships really were a bad idea, apparently.
After the door closed behind Blake, I turned to face Clarissa, who was looking at me like I was some sort of hero. Fucking women. Always reading into every damn thing.
“Look, Clarissa,” I started, trying to convey with my tone just how serious I was. “I apologize for my employee’s outburst, but your behavior really is quite inappropriate and to be honest, it makes me uncomfortable. I’ve not wanted to say anything because both you and your father are valued clients, but I can’t allow this type of conduct to continue. I’m sorry if that offends you. I assure you, it’s not personal. That being said, if you can’t respect my need for boundaries, I’m afraid I’ll have to refer you to another private security firm for your future needs.”
Clarissa surprised me by looking chagrined. I expected her to have a fit and toss out threats to ruin my business or maim my body. Apparently it wasn’t only Blake I couldn’t predict. I knew jack shit when it came to women.
“You’re totally right, and I’m very, sincerely sorry. I promise, from now on I’ll behave.”
She apologized so quickly and so easily that I couldn’t help but wonder if it was genuine. Not that it mattered, so long as she didn’t try to manhandle me anymore.
She quickly gathered her stuff and darted out the door without a backward glance.
I ran my hand down my face. My desk was piled high with shit that needed done, but talking to Blake before she let her imagination go wild was the priority. Before I could leave, though, I needed to talk to Reed. As expected, he was sitting in front of his sixty-thousand computer screens, giant headphones encasing his head and his focus riveted on the computer he was typing on. His fingers flew over the keyboard, spitting out at approximately seventeen-thousand words per minute. The guy was scary talented. And when I say scary, I mean that literally. Reed could hack the president’s phone if I asked him to.
Even distracted, Reed noticed me enter the room and he pulled his headphones back, laying them around his neck before swiveling in his chair to face me.
“Sup, boss?”
“Need you to look into someone for me.” I gave him Dan’s information and filled him in on what happened the night before.
“Holy shit, is she okay? Is that why she ran out of here crying like a half hour ago?”
“Fuck, she was crying?”
I pulled out my phone and dialed her number. It went straight to voicemail. I tried again. Three times. Her phone was either off or dead.
“Can you pull up Blake’s last location?”
Reed eyed me warily. Employees didn’t hesitate when I gave an order, even if I phrased it as a request. That he seemed unsure about trusting me pissed me off.
“Fucking do it, Reed.”
“Okay, jeez.” He spun back around and did his freaky typing thing, then a map popped up on his screen. “Looks like the last ping happened about the time she took off and we’re in the radius, so my best guess is she turned her phone off before leaving.”
“Fuck this,” I growled, shoving away from Reed’s desk before storming out the door.
I wasn’t going to go chasing after Blake. This bullshit drama was the exact reason relationships were a waste of fucking time. As much as I cared about Blake, all the reasons pursuing something more with her were a bad idea were rising to the surface. I’d been distracted at work, almost lost a major client because of her, and I’d just been planning to take off early. My priorities had shifted, and if I wasn’t careful, everything I’d worked so hard to build was going to fall apart right before my eyes all because of a tiny little redhead who upturned my entire life like an F5 tornado with a vengeance.
I should have gone back to my office to finish my day, but I needed a break. The guys were like brothers to me, but that meant they’d want to come poke their noses into my business all damn day and until I got my shit together, I didn’t have it in me to deal with their prying.
So for the first time in years, I headed to a bar. Not since my first year back from overseas had I wallowed in self pity and drank myself into oblivion. I’d spent maybe a month using alcohol to numb the pain before getting my shit together. But did I ever really have my shit together? Before the war, or even before Blake? I’d always kept people mostly at arm’s length, but after my discharge, I shut down even more. Blocked out my mom, my sisters, my friends. Shoving aside the painful memories of what happened, and then the feeling of worthlessness that followed when I lost half my leg - it was all easier when I didn’t feel at all.
Could I even go back to that numb, completely closed-off way of living now if I tried? Did I want to?
Part of me said yes. That shutting down whatever was happening between Blake and me would be for the best. That going back to living a life of isolation would be better for everyone.
But I knew better. Even if I never saw Blake again - a thought that had my chest restricting so tightly it felt like I was about to keel over on the bar right there and have a heart attack - I would never be the same. I wasn’t the same aimless, bitter man that came back to the states some odd years ago. I ran a lucrative security business that employed good men who struggled to get jobs and I truly loved every second of it. And I’d done that, missing leg and all. If I wanted to have my fucking cake and eat it too, then I damn well would. I could balance running a company and having a relationship. People did it all the damn time.
I stared down at my glass of malt scotch, and I swear I could see my reflection in the amber liquid. The man I saw looking back at me was a fucking coward. I’d upset Blake and she’d turned off her phone, and I took that as her playing a game or rejecting me. Because apparently, I’m a narcissistic asshole who only thinks of himself. I’d been so quick to worry about losing a client that I’d somehow forgotten that she’d been attacked the night before. And really, any woman would have been angry if they walked in to find a beautiful woman grabbing their man’s dick. She had every right to be upset, and instead of being there for her, I was day drinking and contemplating whether or not I could break things off.
I tossed a couple twenties on the bar and pushed off my stool. It was time for me to man up and treat Blake with the respect she deserved.