EMMIE
The second I walked into Mickey’s, I felt like I’d come home. It was strange, but I welcomed it.
There were more than a few Reapers here working out, and knowing they were keeping an eye on me ensured I didn’t look to the door in a panic every time it opened.
Mickey had me doing everything, from organising both the reception and his desk to sorting out his god-awful filing situation on the computer, and replying to some emails that he couldn’t be bothered to deal with, on his behalf.
It’s almost time for my lunch break, and I’m placing an order for cleaning supplies when the main door opens once more.
I don’t immediately look up, needing to finish this first, but the second a violent shiver races down my spine, my eyes fly up as icy claws of fear wrap around me.
They wouldn’t come for you here.
They wouldn’t.
All the air rushes from my lungs when I lock eyes on the person who has just walked in.
“Theo,” I breathe, my eyes feasting on him as longing surges through me.
The last memory I have of him is him walking away after they rescued me, and that hurts more than I’m willing to admit.
He marches right up to the reception desk I’m sitting behind, his face set with determination and his eyes dark with challenge.
Jumping to my feet so that I’m not at such a height disadvantage when he gets to me, I hold his stare steady despite every muscle in my body screaming at me to run.
I already know that he has the power to disarm me, to catch me up in his net and lure me into his web.
“Shouldn’t you be at school trying not to kill someone?” I sass.
“Yeah, I should.” His deep, raspy voice washes over me, making my skin erupt in goosebumps.
Fuck, I’ve missed that voice and the things it does to me.
My hate and lust for this psychotic man collide with such force it makes my head spin as I just stare at him as if he might disappear if I were to blink.
“But I suddenly fancied jumping in a ring and sparring with someone.”
Something twinkles in his eyes and my stomach somersaults, half excited, half livid that Stella opened her big mouth and told him where I was.
“You knew I was here,” I state. There’s no point in asking, I already know the truth.
He shrugs, attempting to look innocent.
I quirk a brow. “Don’t even try to pull that shit with me, Cirillo,” I snap, annoyed with myself that he’s pulled me in with no more than a handful of words.
“Oh come on, you love it,” he says, resting his forearms on the counter and leaning closer.
His addictive, manly scent hits my nose, and I silently curse him out as my mouth waters and my body begs to get closer.
I’m hit with the realisation that this is probably how Mum has felt her entire life about drugs and alcohol. I guess things could be worse. I could be addicted to crack, not a hot as fuck boy with the power to shatter my battered and broken heart all over again.
“I’m busy, I don’t have time for this—”
“Lunch break, Shorty,” Mickey none-too-helpfully calls from his office.
I suck in a sharp breath as an accomplished smile appears on Theo’s lips.
“Come spar with me and I’ll buy you lunch.”