Page 21 of Mine to Ruin

“He’s always coming in here.”

“We’re friends.”

“Good. He’s, umm…” She tilts her head and scrunches up her nose.

“A total playboy?”

Relief crosses her face and my heart warms at these two caring for me.

“Like I said, we’re just friends.”

“One less worry.”

The day comes to an end, and I pass the reception, waving goodbye to Anna. She rounds her desk and rushes to me to ask if I would like to go out with her and a few people from work to a bar tomorrow night. I nod, needing to get out of my funk.

Kian can’t have that much control over my emotions. Who invented these stupid feelings when one person’s presence or absence has the power to alter your mood? It should be forbidden, illegal, because it is criminal.

Back home, I let out all my frustration on the canvas, splashing colors until my fingers ache and tremble with exhaustion.

When my painting is done, I wipe my forehead then pick up the phone and call Brandon.

“Anna invited me to this party? You coming?”

“I never miss one, and we all need to loosen up a bit.”

“Is something wrong?” his tone prompts me to ask.

“Kian’s back. He has closed himself in the office, and when he’s not there, he’s fighting one guy after the other. If he keeps this up, no one will want to box with him.”

Worry squeezes my heart suddenly. “What? Is he hurt?”

“Kian? Didn’t you hear me? He’s fine. You should see the other guys.” He huffs and I shoot to my feet.

“He fights?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

My nerves are strained to the breaking point and after a beat of silence Brandon replies, “I don’t think he’s happy that I come to see you.”

“Yeah, right.” I snort.

“Believe what you want, little Picasso.”

Chapter 8

Ellia

I call Aubrey, and she picks up right away, as if she has counted the hours ever since I told her I was going out. Her face beams as I change into several outfits until we decide on a skintight brown leather skirt, a loose shirt, and my hair in waves down my back.

I head downtown, and the bar is packed when I enter. I spot Brandon, and he waves me over. He kisses me on the cheek, and he introduces me to the guys, who eye me with interest. He starts from his right. “These ugly guys are Kendrick and Jason.”

Neither of them is; on the contrary, Kendrick has smooth, bronzed skin, a broad chest, and mesmerizing black eyes, his sculpted body rippling behind his leather jacket. He tips his head in greeting, and Jason rakes a hand through his brown, wavy hair. His suit jacket covers a lean, toned body, and his amber eyes watch me curiously. I wave at them and shift on my feet.

“Hi, I am Ellia.”

“We know,” they gruff in unison.

---