Page 126 of Saved By My Buyers

“Okay. You have roughly half an hour,” he reminds. I set an alarm on the phone just in case, because it’s already a weird day. I’m hoping familiar tasks will bring me out of it.

“Thanks, Jack. Love you,” I say, walking into the bathroom. “I’ll check in later.”

“I love you so much, baby girl. In case you need a reminder, you are so fucking strong. It’s okay to break if you need to, yeah? Don’t feel like you can’t with us,” he says. “Then pick up the pieces, because you are a queen.”

My lips tip up tiredly as I look in the mirror. I have a lot of work to do to pick up those pieces today.

“I know. Bye,” I say, hanging up. Pulling off my clothes and putting my hair up in a shower cap, I rush through my shower. I need to wake up, and wash off the hours I spent writing.

Releasing and cleansing everything I’ve been feeling is exhausting. The shower helps, and soon I’m standing in front of the mirror, popping in my contacts, brushing my teeth, and fixing my curls.

Looking down at my makeup, I decide that I just want to look awake, that’s my goal.

Makeup is something I worry I won’t ever be very good at, though Bee helps and I also watch tutorials to recreate looks. Doing my makeup for the day, I’m pleased at the results.

My skin looks healthy, my eyes don’t look tired, and I managed to get rid of the under eye bags.

Humming a Darkest Nights song I remember, I move to my closet to get dressed. It’s freezing outside, so I grab a pair of gray trouser pants, a cream sweater, and black boots for today.

A deep-blue overcoat completes the outfit with earmuffs and a pretty scarf with matching mittens, because I’m not trying to get frostbite. The snow is coming down today, and I’m eternally grateful to not be driving.

The alarm on my phone screams at me as I grab my gray purse, to throw over my head to wear as a cross body, with my essentials, and turn off my alarm. Running out the door, I lock up and meet Ciara in the lobby before we head out to the car.

“You look really good today,” she says with a warm smile before her head checks every angle as we walk.

“Thanks, rough weekend, but managing,” I say breathlessly as I slide into the passenger seat. She parked on the street so we could easily merge into traffic, and soon we’re on the way to the music school.

The ride is fairly smooth, and she parks at a garage nearby, so we can walk together. Gone are the days where I could be dropped off out front. I miss my anonymity, and wish it could have continued.

I don’t understand why Gareth wants me now that I’m an adult, if his tastes lean toward children.

“Whatever you’re thinking about, you’re going to scare people, Dee,” Ciara murmurs as we nod at the guard in front of the school.

Forcing myself to purge myself of thoughts of hitting Gareth with a crowbar, I smile broadly up at Karl.

“Good morning,” I say, my name badge already hanging from my neck.

“You officially don’t look like you want to kill people anymore, so I guess you can go in,” he teases me, unlocking the door.

“I’ll work on it,” I promise, making him snort as I walk inside. I’m halfway through putting my purse away and taking off my coat, when I realize that I forgot my lunch and snacks, in my hurry to get out the door in time.

Fuck. Guess I’ll see if that’ll earn me a spanking later today. Maybe it’ll help ground me. It’s worth a shot. Grabbing my phone, I quickly text Jack.

Me:

Made it to work, putting my phone on silent. I also managed to forget my lunch and snacks. It’s definitely a Monday!

I replace my phone once it’s on silent into my purse, and stand behind my desk. Jack couldn’t come to the school before the email, because he wanted to make sure he didn’t lead Gareth to me. Unfortunately, it looks as if it doesn’t matter anymore.

Today is an Open House for the school, allowing parents and their children to meet with Sullivan, the board, and teachers, as well as tour the premises. It means an influx of new people, which puts a strain on the security system and guards.

Ciara stands at my side, not giving a single fuck about the sidelong glances people give her.

I have to admit that she’s intimidating, but she’s meant to be. She’s six-feet-tall, Latina, and usually appears to not have any expression when in the public eye. Her long black hair is scraped back into a military bun, and her tactical pants and black shirt are clearly ironed. There’s a gun on her hip, and she has knives hidden on her person as well.

Everything about Ciara screams danger, which is exactly what she wants.

I help people with a smile, content in the knowledge that she’s doing her job, and no one is outwardly an ass to me. Around two in the afternoon, I sag against the desk, groaning as I grab the plastic squeeze bottle of water that I snagged from the employee lounge.

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