Page 14 of Guarded from Sabotage

Now, when I start to get overwhelmed, I think about Dante’s understanding gaze and his quietly confident tone as he assured me that he and his team could help. I think about how kind he was, and how much of a relief it was to realize he actually believed me. And I remember how it felt when he held my hand; like his touch somehow made everything better.

If I’m honest with myself, having Dante’s big hand wrapped around mine brought more than just comfort. There was a sort of electricity that sizzled where he touched me, a hyper-awareness of each tiny movement—his thumb moving across the back of my hand, the tiny squeezes of reassurance, the rasp of his fingers against my skin.

Sitting next to him on the couch; close enough to see the bits of copper in his dark stubble and the tiny scar on his cheekbone, to catch the spicy aroma of the soap he used…

The jitters in my stomach felt an awful lot like butterflies.

Every time he’d smile at me—it should be illegal to have a smile that devastating, really—my heart would stutter.

And when he gave me a quick hug before leaving, there was a part of me that wanted to beg him not to let go. I wanted to sink into Dante’s embrace and forget about everything except how wonderful it felt to have his arms wrapped around me.

But I’m a client, and there’s no place for butterflies and electricity and long embraces. Dante was just being kind, and he grew up in an affectionate family—I remember him mentioning how his mom hugs everyone, even the cashier at her regular grocery store—so it’s only natural he’d offer a reassuring touch when I was so obviously upset.

Besides, these unexpected feelings and sensations are probably just my subconscious confusing gratitude for something deeper. And it doesn’t matter how I felt when Dante held my hand. The important thing is getting this identity theft resolved and doing whatever I can to help.

Like yesterday, when I went to the Blade and Arrow headquarters after work and met with some of Dante’s team. I handed over the list I’d come up with of anyone who could possibly hold a grudge against me, although there were some people I couldn’t include due to confidentiality concerns—aparent who lost custody of a child I was working with, or a man I helped their ex file a restraining order against.

“It’s okay,” Matt reassured me. “As long as I know where you worked and when, I can find out the necessary information without you being involved.”

I was a little alarmed at that, but Dante just patted my hand and said, “Don’t worry. Matt is very good at what he does. He won’t compromise the privacy of your clients or get you in trouble. He’ll just find out if there’s anyone you may have worked with that could be responsible for this and do some quiet investigation into it.”

What was I going to do, say no? Don’t help me when I clearly can’t do this on my own?

Besides, I trust Dante. Maybe it’s crazy given how short a time I’ve actually known him, but there’s a bone-deep certainty he wouldn’t do anything that could hurt me—physically, emotionally, or professionally.

By the time I left the meeting, any remaining doubts about Blade and Arrow helping me were gone. Matt outlined his strategy for investigating who could be behind this, how he’d contact all the banks and credit card companies to find out how my information was changed, and start working on getting all my accounts and money back again. And everyone seemed so confident, so certain they’d get this solved, I couldn’t help feeling hopeful, too.

“Don’t forget,” Dante reminded me as he walked me to my car, “contact me if there’s anything concerning. Someone threatening you, the police showing up at work, strange letters or messages, anything. The entire team has your back, okay?” Then he paused, and his gaze went dark and intense. “I have your back, Sarah. Don’t hesitate to call if you need help.”

So yeah, after that, I’m definitely feeling better than I was several days ago.

I’m even feeling cheery enough to give Raya a genuine smile as she comes into my office, instead of the strained ones I’ve been pasting on lately.

She looks even prettier than when I saw her earlier, her hair out of her usual work ponytail and flowing down her back in a curtain of gleaming chestnut. The cardigan she was wearing is gone, leaving her arms and shoulders bared in a rose-colored tank that matches her lipstick.

“Hey, Sarah.” Raya returns my smile with a bright one of her own. “I’m just heading out. Do you want to grab a drink with me? I was thinking of going to Uncorked; they have a special tonight on wine flights and there’s supposed to be live music. It could be fun.”

“I’d love to, but I have to stay late.” I make an apologetic face. “A bunch of my files got all messed up due to some computer glitch, and now I have to go through and fix them.”

It’s the truth, but I’d be making an excuse even if I could go. Even though I told Dante I’m okay with money, I won’t be if things aren’t resolved soon. So I’m trying to be extra careful with my spending, and unfortunately, evenings spent tasting wine and listening to live music don’t make the cut.

I know people would help me financially if I asked—Hanna already offered, and so did Dante. My parents would help without question. But the last thing I want is to take my parents’ money after they saved for so long to buy their perfect retirement home. Hanna’s saving her money for trips with Finn and possibly a baby in the future. And Dante and his team are already helping enough—pro-bono, for that matter—so I’m definitely not asking them for money.

“Oh, that sucks, Sarah.” Raya frowns. “Computer problems are so frustrating. Did you ask IT about it?”

“Yeah.” Nodding, I add, “I did, and Ivan came by, but he couldn’t seem to figure out what happened. He couldn’tretrieve the original files, and I need them for my appointments tomorrow, so I have to go through my notes and update everything manually.”

“Ugh. That really stinks.” Her brows pull into a little V. “You’ve had some bad luck lately. With the credit cards, and then that weird thing with the police… But you got all that worked out, right?”

“Yup.” Gritting my jaw, I force my smile to stay steady. In a bright tone, I say, “Just some unfortunate mix ups. Maybe I broke a mirror or walked under a ladder or something.”

“Maybe.” After a pause, she brightens. “Well, they say bad luck comes in threes. So you’re all caught up.”

With a small laugh that’s only a tiny bit brittle, I reply, “I’m sure you’re right.”

Except I think my three has multiplied a few times.

After she leaves, I exhale heavily and let the smile I’ve been holding drop. The optimism I’ve been clinging to slips out of my grasp a little more. It’s surprisingly tiring to keep up a good front, pretending everything is okay when it’s still the furthest thing from it.

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