Page 4 of Puck my Prey
Perhaps he was more like solace than I thought.
I held the gaze of the man who would be lucky if he would survive tonight to be in the office tomorrow at this rate.
"You're early," I accused him.
Both eyebrows raised over dark skin. A shadow crossed his gaze as he watched me. "And you're surprised. Why are you surprised, Miss Cora Brooks?" My name rolled from his tongue like honeyed tea.
I hated the way he said it. Like he’d taken possession of me, somehow.
"Let me make this clear. Once," I snapped. More blood filled my mouth. I swallowed the unwelcome tang back. "I'll let you know when I'm ready for you, and then you come running, especially after the way the team has behaved today, thanks to your… Behavior this morning," I held his imposing gaze despite feeling as though I was less than half his height and held my ground. “You’ll tell me everything I need to know. Is that–"
“Absolutely,” he said softly.
Respectfully.
I blinked.
What just happened?
“Fine. I'll call you in ten minutes,” I huff.
Valentine inclined his head and ducked out of the doorway. Despite his bulk and height that must be near seven feet—exaggeration, six and a half, he just looked huge to tiny duck butt me. For the life of me I couldn’t recall his exact stats that earlier this morning I could have rattled off like a well-trained parrot—his footfalls as he disappeared along the hallway were near silent.
Like a hunter.
My fingers curled into fists at my sides. Damn that man and his ability to influence both my own reactions and the team for the short period of time he had been around. My teeth weren’t the only things that clacked as I turned back to my paperwork and continued shredding the top page into confetti.
Fuck Valentine and his mind games. Fuck him and his manners.
Fuck this club and fuck this day.
All I wanted was to go home, bury my head in a pillow and scream into the void like a toddler. But I couldn't do that, because I was an adult—some of the time—and I had a job to do.
I inhaled water and read through my scanned notes, attempting to formulate a plan from the information I'd gathered for the rest of the day. My phone rang on my desk.
“Yes?”
I’d never made a habit of answering with my name. If someone didn’t know who they were calling, they shouldn’t be calling.
“Cora! How’s your morning going!” A chipper, thin voice bitch slapped me from the other end.
I bit back a groan. “Uh, just dandy, Peatie. Whatcha got for me this morning?”
“Well, after your Chimeras ate up the landscape last night, there’s not a lot more going on, but rumor has it…”
I closed my eyes and zoned out.
Rumor has itwas Peatie’s favorite line. Over a year ago, Peatie had pulled my number from the Chimera’s business directory and decided he, as a mini media PR mogul, would ‘assist’ me by providing daily updates. Usually, his information was actually helpful. I stayed off social media unless I needed it, and he was fairly reliable with his sources of comings and goings in the sports world, major shifts, scandals, etc., etc., etc. Even if we weren’t friends, I did appreciate the work he put in.
I nodded a lot, put in a few well placed‘yeps’and hung up without wasting too much time. Twenty minutes later, my mind was as blank as it had been before Valentine appeared in the office doorway. I glanced at my phone and made a call that I hated. Asking for help had never been my strong point, but right now I didn't see your way around it.
CORA: Best approach for Valentine?
COACH: Straight up. You’ll earn his respect fastest for that.
CORA: Even after this morning?
I felt pitiful, begging for validation.
