Page 70 of Quiet Protector
My eyes snap to Leo when he mumbles in anger, “So Julian’s assumptions were right. You were holed up at your ranch with Brandon the past week.”
“It wasn’t like that.”Not by my choice, but I keep that snippet of information to myself. My ego is already knocked. It doesn’t need another sting. “He’s my friend.”
My brows furrow in confusion when Leo asks, “When was the last time you heard from him?”
“Earlier this morning. Why?” Brandon’s contact was nothing more than a transfer of assets for his BMW since he took the Hellcat as offered, but I’m so curious to see where Leo is going with this, I can’t help but play along.
Leo scrubs his hair-free chin before asking, “Sorry, let me rephrase my question. When was the last time you contacted Brandon?”
It takes me a little longer to answer this time around. Guilt does that to you. “I haven’t returned any of his messages.”
“But he’s your friend…right?”
Forgetting he’s my boss, I hand some of his snappy attitude back to him. “Don’t judge me. You don’t know what it’s like for me.”
“I think I can take a guess. Do you clam up at the thought of being touched? Choose years of abstinence over forcing a connection?” The wetness in my eyes leaps into his when he mutters, “Did you agree not to sleep with someone until you’re married because the fear of being touched isn’t just coming from your fiancée’s side of the fence? You’re just as scared as her.” My guards crumble when he asks, “Why do you think he was so patient with you, Melody? Why did you think he never pushed you? A victim knows a victim, right?” When I nod, agreeing with him, he says, “Then why did you never notice Julian’s pain as you did mine?”
I’ve barely absorbed his first hit when he smacks me with another. “I need to place you on paid leave until we can work out if there will be any backlash to the office for the funds you disbursed. I appreciate the hard work you’ve given our office the past year, but I suggest you use the time of your suspension for personal endeavors instead of work-related ones.”
“Okay.”That’s it? Seven years of hard work reduced to one lousy word.“I’ll clean out my desk now.”
I’m halfway to the door when my steps are slowed by a low, panicked tone. “If Julian ever finds out what I told you—”
“He won’t find out,” I assure him before standing up for myself as I should have years ago. “But the next time you go on a friend-bashing rant, perhaps you should viewallthe evidence first. I’ve texted Julian multiple times the past two weeks. He has never messaged me back.”
Apologies brim in Leo’s eyes when he says, “I’m sorry. He never mentioned that.”
“When do victims ever accept culpability? We’re taught not to, unaware the leeway we’re given to cope isn’t supposed to extend to all aspects of our lives.”
When Leo remains quiet, having no defense, I dip my chin in farewell before exiting the conference room. The buzz throughout our office usually keeps me enthralled for hours, so I suck in as much of it as I can while heading to my office at the back of the bustling space.
Although most of my belongings technically belong to the state, I still have a handful of things to pack. Mainly photographs of my parents, the Donald Duck Pez collectible Julian gifted me when he proposed, and a newspaper write-up of our engagement party. My laptop is mine, so I place that into my briefcase after removing the files I updated the team on earlier. Then I’m done. My entire career packed into one tiny box in less than twenty minutes.
My lonesome walk to the elevator should be somber, but I’m accustomed to being alone. I’ve never been surrounded by a bunch of people, so solidarity is more comforting to me than it would be an extrovert. I doubt that will still be the case when I don’t have work to keep me occupied, but I can’t say I blame Leo. I did compromise his office’s integrity. It just occurred long before he realized. I should have never accepted a position anywhere the McGee name was known. That was just asking for trouble.
I smile at the security officer at the door before pushing through the rotating entryway door. It’s mid-morning, but you wouldn’t know it when I break outside. It’s dreary and miserable, not that the sun can ever be seen through the tall buildings surrounding me.
When I gallop down the stairs of my office building, my heart rate kicks into a cantor. A familiar black SUV is idling at the curb. Its tags are recognizable.
“Julian, what are you doing here?”
The pop of orange coloring on the top of Julian’s head makes the day not seem so dreary. “I had an inkling you needed me.” His eyes lower to the box in my hands. “If that’s anything to go by, I’m glad I listened.” The sun isn’t needed to brighten the miserable day when he nudges his head to the open back passenger door of his car and says, “Come on. I‘ll give you a ride home.”
I should jump into his car. Instead, I leap straight into his arms.
30
Brandon
Ipull pods from my ears when Harlow kicks my boots with her shoe. She’s balancing a stack of dirty dishes in one hand while the other is gripping a coffee pot. “Did you say something?”
She takes my snarly tone in stride. “I was asking if you’d like a refill.”
Shaking my head, I place my hand over my empty mug. “I’m good. Thanks.”
I wait for her to leave before dropping my eyes back to Tobias’s newer-looking laptop. Grayson shit his pants when I said I refurbished it. It was only after I assured him the shell was the only thing I changed did he stop threatening to punch me into next week. The last time I saw him that worked up was when I told him I let Melody leave me for the second time without putting up a fight.
He called me every derogative name known under the sun, his rant only ending when I confessed the real reason I was struggling. No one can predict how they’ll handle something until they face the dilemma head-on. Am I handling this one right? Probably not. But I’m hoping to keep my head so buried with work, I won’t have to come up for air anytime soon.
