Page 40 of Defended By Love

He runs a hand through his wet, curly hair. I smile. The gesture makes sense when it actually works to get some of the unruly hair out of his eyes. It showcases how high his eyebrows have risen in surprise.

“Is this because of the penthouse? I rented it out online. Technically, it was after we broke in and put the window to good use, but still. Are we really throwing the word evil around for that?”

I stare at him. Thinking about what we did up against the window is not helping my resolve to slow things down to evaluate if he’s the enemy or not before ripping his clothes and/or towel off.

Except, I really do need to evaluate. Malice is often the evil twin of stupidity. The two look an awful lot alike, moving and pausing in all the same ways. It’s often impossible to discern which one is genuine and which one is the mimicry of good intentions.

“You work for Zagreus Hart,” I say simply, deciding that subterfuge has no place in an endless cycle.

There’s a pause. Grant looks at me like he’s waiting for me to go on.

“And you’re a lawyer?” he adds tentatively.

I pause. My god, when we’re not going at each other like animals in heat, we can be quite awkward.

“What?” I ask.

Grant shrugs. “I’m not really following this. Is it too late to talk about pod racing?”

“Hart Link Incorporated is evil… allegedly.”

Grant laughs and then looks at me. Despite the discerning charm of his carefree laugh, I remain resolute in my seriousness. Getting disarmed by joy and laughter are rooky mistakes.

“Oh… um… no?” he mumbles. “I don’t think so?”

I roll my eyes, getting serious flashbacks to when I had to tell my client that the price sticker was still on his watch.

“The headquarters are in a giant skull shape in a cliff.”

Grant frowns slightly, his brow furrowing. “I always thought it looked like a smiley face. Kind of like an emoji Mount Rushmore. I named it Dennis, although I guess that’s not super important right now.” He trails off and rocks back on his heels, blushing slightly.

Dennis. Grant is either the world’s best actor or the most awkward man in existence.

Maybe both.

“Your boss is a billionaire with near-monopolies in every single sector of importance in technology and no one even knows what he looks like.”

Grant makes a considering noise to go along with his single bob of his head.

“We get our birthdays off, though. Plus, we can wear jeans,” he says, gesturing like he’s made a great point.

“The company’s motto is ‘A Better World at Any Cost’.”

Grant shrugs. “I think it’s optimistic. Who doesn’t want a better world?”

Behind his curtain of dripping, wavy hair, Grant’s brown eyes meet mine. They’re clear pools of honesty and raw emotion into his sweet, hopeful soul. When he looks at a menacing skull, he sees a smiley face. When he reads a threatening slogan, he thinks it’s a jubilant look towards the future.

When he sees me, he sees someone loveable.

“You’re really not evil.”

“I have a lot of faults.” He gives me a weak smile. “But being evil isn’t one of them. I hope. My mom would be so disappointed if I turned out evil.”

Just like that, all the gusto goes out of me. As it always does, the adrenaline that bolsters my body after the fall of the building falters and fails. I brush past him to collapse onto his tiny, well-used loveseat.

This is all too much. I was prepared for him to be evil. I have no clue what to do with him now that I know he’s good.

Maybe not good. He still lied. A lot.

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