Page 58 of Defended By Love

“No grounds!” Dominic explodes, then casts an eye in Grant’s direction and lowers his voice. “You just admitted to illegally entering the building.”

Well, that’s true.

“Still, you can’t just fire me!”

Wrong thing to say.

Dominic bristles at me daring to infer his power has limits. “You are an associate who reports directly to me. The partners will stand by my decision.”

“So, you’re just going to fire me?” My voice breaks slightly. “Even though we’re a team.”

Because that’s what he always said we were.

“I already have.”

I didn’t cry at my grandpa’s funeral. Mostly because I didn’t go. I didn’t go because Dominic told me that he really needed my help on a case, so I skipped the funeral and worked.

I didn’t cry then, but hot tears well over my eyes now.

It’s stupid. It’s just a job and Dominic is just a boss. But suddenly I feel like I’m drowning.

“Good luck replacing me,” I hiss. “I work my ass off for this company!”

Dominic shrugs. “So we’ll hire two paralegals. It’ll still be cheaper than you.”

Then, he turns away from me.

Dismissed. Replaced. Forgotten. I’ve given this company the very spirit in my bones and yet it sloughs me off as easily as an unwanted winter jacket in the spring. The company continues unchanged, while I’m left a depleted echo of my former self.

With nothing left to lose, I grab the briefcase out of the tall man’s hands.

“Now, Grant,” I yell.

Just like that, he scoops me up in his arms and we’re off flying. We fly until the ground below is a sea of tiny dots looking up at us with awe. We fly until I can’t see their faces and they can’t see my tears.

We can’t fly far enough, though, to escape the overwhelming sadness that consumes me. I know today will reset and I’ll still have my job. Dominic will never have snapped at me, never fired me. If I see him, he’ll probably shoot me a finger gun and call me kiddo.

Except now I know the truth. That job was my world, but I was nothing to it. I was just the foolish girl who gave it everything and confused empty praise for true appreciation.

Chapter 27

The steady beat of his heart is the only thing that keeps me grounded as Grant flies me back to my apartment. All the pocket paparazzi are having a field day; here’s the elusive Garnet Defender (or Crimson Streak, if you ask popular opinion) for all the world to see. I know that by the day’s end—not that that means anything right now—my face will be splashed alongside his all over the internet, but I don’t care about that.

I was fired.

I was fired from a job that I thought needed me to run. I put in extra hours, missed family events, prioritized it over everything else, and in the end, it didn’t matter. There was no parade or public protest to mark my leaving, just a staggered step before it walked on just fine without me.

Alternating waves of anger, sadness, embarrassment, and even some of grief wash over me. Through it all, I just curl in closer against Grant’s chest, listening to the sound of his heart and feeling his warmth until everything else disappears.

Everything disappears, that is, except the feel of him.

By the time we touch down at my apartment, I’m drunk off the feeling of him. I don’t know if it was on purpose or not, but the way he was holding me was really doing it for me. The hand on my back, held me tight, while his thumb made sweeping strokes that just barely brushed the back of my neck. His other hand gripped me high on my thigh, just close enough for me to imagine what would happen if he let his hand drift just a little bit higher.

I never thought I was one for exhibitionism, but the thought of us flying high over the city, just out of sight, while his fingers brush long passes at my center is one that I don’t hate. I also don’t hate the thought of his fingers slipping inside me. I would ride his hand with my legs wrapped around his waist just high enough to remain unseen.

And if we do get seen, there’s always the good ole time loop to fall back on.

My whole body is tingling when Grant sets me on my little terrace. I slide my hands up his chest, loving the feel of the soft cotton of his ridiculous t-shirt under my hands instead of his usual cheap spandex. Up and up, I rove my hands over his hard chest and onto his smiling cheeks.

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