Page 10 of Dolls & Daggers
Charming the office hasn’t helped either, because the one person I actually need to impress is the oneperson immune to my dazzling smile and good looks. If anything, the infuriating woman is completely unaffected.
A fact I find most irritating—though, for the life of me, I can’t fathom why.
Dove Carroway is an enigma. A riddle I can’t crack. On principle, I don’t want to be attracted to her, but every time she’s in my general vicinity, I can’t fucking look away. It’s like our eyes have a magnetic pull, drawn together no matter how hard I try to resist.
“It’s kinda creepy how much she looks like?—”
“Don’t fucking finish that sentence, Hunt.”
The bite in my tone echoes through the gym. I wipe the sweat from my brow with the inside of my arm as we switch places.
Hunter studies me, unconvinced. “Is that your issue with her? Because I’ve never seen that woman dislike anyone. And for as long as I’ve known her, I can’t think of a single soul who has a problem with her. She’s like bubblegum personified—sweet, sugary, and addicting… if you know what I mean.” He shrugs casually, but I know he’s baiting me.
He’s been doing it all week. Every time he sees me and her together, because for whatever reason, he sees something between us too. A force yanking us closer, even when we try to stay apart.
“What about Bunny?” I counter.Two can play thisgame, asshole.“She’s more my type. I like the whole rocker chick thing she’s got going on—sexy without meaning to be, you know? Maybe we should do a double date.”
The more I talk, the harder my best friend hits the bag, each strike forcing me to use more strength to keep my feet firmly planted. “Funny,” he quips. “Come near my girl, and you won’t have eyes left to look at Dove with.”
“Oh, Bunny’syourgirl? Does she know that? Last time I checked, she hates you.”
I let go of the bag just as Hunter lands a blow, stepping back to remove my gloves and take a sip from my water bottle.
“Ha. Ha.” He deadpans. “She just pretends to hate me. Just like you with Dove.” He levels me with a knowing stare. “I’m serious, Wren. I’ve never seen you like this with a woman before. You’re not one to go out of your way to be snarky, so what gives? If it’s not her looks, is it just because she won’t publish your articles? If that’s the case, give it time. You just started there. She probably feels threatened because you’re a man, and statistically, it’s a male-dominated field. She pulled that place out of the gutters. Show a little respect.”
The thing is, Hunter’s right.Tailor Industrieswas this close to cuttingMetro Mediabefore Dove came inand revived it. I don’t know why I felt the need to start on a sour note with her.
Fuck a sour note. You basically emo-screamed an anthem about being THE MAN in all caps, Wren. No wonder she hates you.
And I’m learning quickly that when Dove dislikes someone, she doesn’t make a show of it. No. She delivers her displeasure on a rose-gold platter, laced with cotton candy and glittery sugar sprinkles—making you think she’s treating you special while she’s really poisoning you from the inside out.
My ringtone cuts through the silence.
The gym is quiet for a Sunday, or at least that’s what the attendant at the front said. We usually go to Hunter’s gym, closer to Metro P.D. headquarters, but since I have access to the one in theMetro Mediabuilding, we decided to try it out and haven’t returned to his since. The air here smells crisp and clean, not like a pit of sweat-drenched misery, and there’s a cooler with free imported water and top-tier sports drinks just outside the locker rooms—which are fully stocked with the best hair and skin products money can buy.
We hadn’t even made it out of the locker room before Hunter announced he was going to be my permanent plus one.
He chugs his water, giving me a sidelong glance as I swipe my screen and send the call to voicemail.
“Everything okay?” he asks, the question heavy with a familiar delicacy that rattles the marrow in my bones.
Even after all this time, my best friend still hasn’t given up hope that I’ll eventually talk about what happened back then. Why I had to leave New York and finish high school across the country in California—confirm his part in that decision.
Lighten up, Songbird. Life isn’t as serious as you make it out to be.Dove’s parting words from Friday echo in my head just as my screen lights up with a voicemail notification.
“Howisyour mother?”
Hunter’s eyes are glued to my screen as I lift my tired gaze to his. His lips are tight, his skin a little paler than it was seconds ago, and his amber eyes are dark with the same shadows as the last time he asked that question.
“She’s fine,” I clip, swallowing the bile rising in my throat as we head to the locker room.
Hunter inhales sharply, another prying question no doubt on the tip of his tongue, but his phone buzzes, stealing his attention.
“Shit.” He breathes the word out, quiet but firm.
“What is it?”
“The Doll struck again.” His voice is grim. “She sent in another video.”
