"—and we’re confident these baseless charges will be dropped," Marcus Ashby’s smooth voice fills my living room.
I sink deeper into the couch, my eyes glued to the TV. Logan stands next to his lawyer, his face a mask of stoic determination. He’s perfectly groomed, which probably means all the female viewers are swooning over him. I’ve seen a few videos on social media in the past couple weeks talking about how they’ve fallen in love with a criminal, all over his mugshot.
Now that he’s standing there, live and sexy, I’m sure the internet’s going to go wild.
"Looks like your boyfriend’s making waves," Penelope quips, plopping down beside me.
"He’s not my boyfriend," I mutter, but even I realize that he pretty much is.
The camera pans to a reporter, her perfectly coiffed hair at odds with the intensity in her eyes. She’s like a shark. "Mr. Ashby, there are rumors circulating that the Supernatural Enforcement Division has a history of arresting innocent individuals. Can you comment on that?"
I lean forward, curious to see how Marcus will handle it.
A hint of a smile plays at the corner of Marcus’s lips. "I appreciate your question," he begins, his voice dripping with charm. "However, I think it’s important to focus on the facts of this particular case. My client, Mr. Everett, has an impeccable record of service with the SED. The very notion that he would be involved in any criminal activity is, quite frankly, laughable."
Marcus deftly redirects the conversation. He doesn’t deny the accusation outright, but he doesn’t give it any credence either.
"That lawyer’s an asshole," Penelope mutters beside me.
I tear my eyes away from the screen to look at her. She’s scowling, at odds with the glint of admiration in her eyes.
"But?" I prompt, sensing there’s more to her statement.
Penelope sighs. "But he’s hot. And damn good at his job."
I can’t help but agree. Marcus Ashby is undeniably attractive, with his sharp features and perfectly tailored suit. His voice fills the room again. "We have full faith in the justice system," he’s saying, his hand resting lightly on Logan’s shoulder. "Mr. Everett looks forward to clearing his name and returning to his duties protecting our community."
The news segment ends, shifting to a perky weatherman discussing an incoming cold front. I reach for the remote and mute the TV.
"So," Penelope drawls, turning to face me. "What’s your next move?"
I blink at her. "My next move?"
She rolls her eyes. "Come on, Nikki. You’re going to investigate, aren’t you? Clear your man’s name?"
"Maybe." A smile tugs at my lips. "I just don’t know where to start. For now, I’ll just put my trust in his lawyer."
* * *
Another inquiry pops into my inbox with a cheerful ’ding’. I suppress a groan and click it open, scanning the contents without enthusiasm.
This time, it isn’t a customer, but one of my co-workers. I guess they’re going to start pretending I’m a real person again.
It’s a request to double-check the ward configurations for the Hartley account. Something I’d normally do in person, but I have zero urge to go the extra mile for this company today.
Apparently, people think I have nothing better to do than triple-check work I’ve already done twice. Then again, I guess they aren’t really wrong. I have no client accounts active, since no one’s giving me my clients back.
I fire off a terse reply, assuring them that yes, the wards are perfect, and no, the bogeyman won’t be sneaking in through their cat flap anytime soon.
My gaze drifts to the clock on my computer screen. Only three more hours of this hellish monotony. It’s like working in a graveyard of my past mistakes, with the added bonus of fluorescent lighting.
The hours crawl by. I manage to close out a few more inquiries, but there isn’t much for me to do.
This job used to mean something to me, but now? I hate being here.
I need a new job. Maybe I should get out of anti-magic security entirely. Try something new, with a better paycheck.
As the clock finally strikes five, I let out a sigh of relief and gather my things, already dreaming of my couch, a glass of wine, and maybe a trashy romance novel where the only magic is between the sheets. Or, you know, Logan between my sheets. But I have no idea what he’s doing today, and I’m trying desperately not to be clingy.
Because we’re not in a relationship. Yeah. I’m still heavy on the denial.
"Hey, Nicole! Ready for tonight?"
Mike’s voice has me barely suppressing a flinch. Shit. The drinks. I’d completely forgotten about agreeing to go out with him and the others. Probably because my brain had filed it under things I’d rather not remember.
"Mike! I, uh, yeah. Totally ready."
He grins, leaning against my desk in what I assume he thinks is a casual, sexy pose. It reminds me more of a scarecrow with a hip problem. "Great! We’re meeting in about thirty minutes. You know the place?"
"Yeah, I know it." They always drink at a dive bar nearby. It’s within walking distance.
Mike’s hand lands on my shoulder, and I resist the urge to check if I need to disinfect later. "I’m really looking forward to this, Nicole. It’ll be good to unwind, you know?"
His fingers linger a moment too long. That’s twice now.
I shrug off his touch as casually as I can. "Sure, unwinding. Sounds great."
I have absolutely no idea why he thinks flirting with me is a good idea. It’s almost fascinating, or would be if it wasn’t so damn irritating.
Besides, does he really think I’ve just forgotten or forgiven how he acted when I was forced out on my pseudo "vacation"?
Mike, either oblivious to my discomfort or choosing to ignore it, continues. "Maybe after, we could grab a bite to eat? Just the two of us?"
Oh, joy.
"I have to meet up with a friend later. Maybe next time."