planting the seed in my brain for me to finally see the whole picture. Daniel Cross is not the man I thought he was.
Standing up, I fix my skirt and let out an audible breath. “All right, well if there's nothing else, I'm going to get back to work.”
The phone on his desk rings, so he flips his fingers that I'm free to leave as he picks up the receiver. Giving him a fake smile, I close the door quietly behind me.
“He's happy today,” Carla says as she stocks the copy machine with paper.
“Yeah, a little too happy, I think.” Walking to her desk, I lay my arms flat on top and pick up a paperclip. Flipping it in my fingers, I ask, “Hey, have you seen Claudia yet today?”
Carla thinks about it for a second, her brows furrowing into the bridge of her nose. “Yes actually, I saw her a little while ago. I think she's in the PR office.”
Tapping the top of her desk, I smile. “Thanks.”
I'm walking down the hall, when I spot Claudia getting in the elevator. “Claude!” I call out, waving my hand. “Hold the door!”
Her eyes get big as she stares at me with a blank expression. She doesn't reach her hand out to hit the button or move to hold the door open. I know she sees me, but it's like she doesn't hear me.
“Claude, I need to talk—” Throwing my arm out, I try to make a dash for the elevator. The doors are closing and she still isn't moving to hold them for me.
Claudia isn't smiling, she's just staring at me, flat faced, limp arms, and no smile.
Shit. . . She must have seen the paper.
I should have been the one to tell her first. I had the chance and I let it slip away.
Now, one of the only friends I have, finds out about this shit with Phade through the media. I can only imagine what she's thinking. She's probably thinking I lied to her, that I'm a shitty friend, and I don't care about our friendship.
Damn it. This isn't how I imagined any of it going.
In my mind it was all perfect, it was packaged beautifully, and decorated with a bright pink bow. My hold on this situation is slipping through my fingers like wet spaghetti. I can't grasp it, no matter how much I try, nothing is going the way I really want it to.
All I can do at this point is damage control. And I will, after I talk to Claudia and explain everything first.
She deserves to hear the truth from me, not the lies we feed to the paper.
11
Phade
Smack!
Smack! Smack!
Spinning on my heel, I kick the bag and throw a hard jab. It feels good to let loose like this, it always has. Nothing feels better than doing what you love for a living.
“Phade, what's going on?”
Turning to look over my shoulder, I give a head nod. “Hey man,” I say, taking the chance to wipe the sweat off my face.
Frank Delatorro, or as the fighting world calls him, Brick. He's six feet of solid muscle, with a neck as thick as his biceps and thighs the size of tree trunks. His ears look like nothing but scar tissue, complete cauliflower ear, and his nose bends in four different directions from being broken a dozen times.
He moved here from Long Island a couple years back. Daniel found him in a gym one day while at a championship match, not long before he came for me.
Frank's good, but he's not me, no one can be me. Which is why Daniel is going through all this trouble to keep me around. It pays to be the golden boy.
“You ready for the semi-finals coming up?” Dropping his duffle bag onto the ground, he starts to stretch. “I hear there's some stiff competition.”
Shrugging a shoulder, I ball my hands into fists and do a double jab combo with a knee strike. “You sound worried.”
Frank gives me a look, and a toothless grin. “Fuck you man, I never worry.”
“You sure?” I ask, hitting the bag with an elbow and shin kick.
“Fuck you,” he says with a laugh. Frank sits on the bench and takes the tape out of his bag. “What's this I hear about you and some chick tying the knot?” He's wrapping his hand tight as he looks up at me. “Daniel's daughter of all people?”
“What do you want me to say, Frank? You know I love those brunettes.”