Page 21 of Dolls & Daggers
Dove’s thick lashes flutter innocently as she leans in. “Well, Songbird! If you wrote something worth publishing, we would. I’ve been giving you my notes for over two weeks now. Be a team player and takesome direction. Or,” she whispers conspiratorially, sugar cookie breath wafting my way, “stick to writing what you’re good at.”
With a wink, she spins away, pausing briefly when she sees my board of crime scene photos from the Baby Doll Killer videos before sashaying out of my office.
I won’t deny it—I watch her ass the entire way, and even then, I close my eyes and lean back in my chair, envisioning how the rounded globes of her breasts spilled over the top of her lacy bra when she bent over.
“Infuriating woman,” I whisper through clenched teeth.
Rubbing my brow, I exhale long and slow before pushing to my feet. If I’m going to finish this article before day’s end, I need coffee.
Stepping out of my office, I glance down the hall toward Dove’s. Her door is open. She’s perched behind her desk, fussing over Fang as she feeds him a treat. As if sensing my gaze, she looks up. For a second, I almost go to her, almost apologize for the other night at the bar. I haven’t felt this much turmoil over a woman since…
Cotton candy pink lips stretch into a wide grin as she lifts a hand, wiggling her French-tipped nails in my direction before tapping her delicate rose-gold watch—a silent reminder that I’m on deadline.
Shoving my hands into my pockets, I head for theelevator. The building is eerily quiet for a Monday. Even the coffee shop on the ground level lacks its usual chaotic energy. No impatient employees tapping their feet, no irritable customers storming in off the street. But that’s par for the course in aTailor Industrybuilding. Sometimes, I forget that not all of New York operates the same.
“Hey, Wren,” Ted, the barista, greets me with a nod. “Your usual?” he asks as he scans my employee card.
“Yes, please. Thanks.”
As he starts my latte, my gaze snags on a cup sitting on the counter—Dove’s name scrawled across it in bold marker.
Ted follows my line of sight. “She busy up there? She usually doesn’t forget her afternoon Americano.”
“She lost her dog in the office. Probably forgot she ordered it.” With a sigh, I slide the iced drink closer to me. “I’ll bring it up.”
Condensation drips over my fingers as Ted chuckles. “Oh, Fang? He’s such a little cutie. Glad she found him. He never leaves her side. Wonder what caught his attention?”
I preen a little at that—because for whatever reason, the ratdog sought me out and deemed my presence nap-worthy. Not that I tell Ted.
“Mind adding a sprinkle of sugar to her drink?”Ted asks, already turning away to pump vanilla syrup into another cup. “She always does it herself in the afternoon.”
I narrow my eyes at his back before reluctantly stepping toward the condiment bar, where neatly arranged sugars, syrups, and milks await.
Grabbing the crystal container of sweet, addicting white granules, I drag the edge over the ice, scrawling a bold F and U before snapping the lid back on. By the time I get upstairs, the sugar will have dissolved. She’ll be none the wiser.
Licking a stray dusting of sugar off my thumb, I immediately recoil, grimacing.
Salt.
Gagging, I spin to tell Ted—then stop. Slowly, I turn back to where Dove’s drink sits innocently on the counter, looking completely unsabotaged.
If I had horns, they’d curl mischievously.
Smirking, I collect my own drink and head back upstairs, leaving Ted blissfully unaware that someone swapped the sugar for salt.
Dove sees me from halfway down the hall. Her gaze locks onto the cup in my hand, realization flickering across her pretty features. Fang yips, his tail wagging wildly as I step into her office and set the drink on her desk.
“Ted wanted me to make sure you got this.” I don’t giveher time to reply before making a beeline for my office.
“Thank you,” she snarks, dripping with sarcasm, as though it’s my job to caffeinate her.
Three… two… one…
The sound of gagging and spluttering tears through the hall.
“WREN!”
Grinning, I shut and lock my office door just as people start standing from their desks, craning their necks to investigate the commotion.
