Page 20 of The Daredevil

Because I’m afraid.

Were these feelings just a phase? I’d experienced them before when I thought a guy was cute and then, a week later, the feelings disappeared. Maybe after having dinner with Royce, my feelings would be gone, and I’d have no issues.

Feeling relieved, I concentrated on my work and logged into the shared drive of the NewYou Beauty employee website. Browsing the images, I created a portfolio for my blog posts, organizing them according to theme and color scheme. This method helped me concentrate on each story segment, allowing the reader to experience NewYou Beauty products on a personal level.

People responded to images, and a picture could say a thousand things words couldn’t. But the right words could also add power to those images. I believed that was why people were drawn to my blog. I chose the images carefully, making sure each one mattered.

As I typed my post, a notification popped onto my screen about an incoming email from Fiona. Irritation niggled at me like a bug landing on my skin. Why was she emailing me? We weren’t collaborating on any projects, and we weren’t friends. She had her own thing to do, and I had mine.

Curiosity got the best of me, and I clicked on the email.

Hello, NewYou Beauty Team,

I was brainstorming and thought of this wonderful idea that could benefit NYB skincare products. Hear me out. What if I cover the overall social media for NewYou Beauty—including blog posts and other social media platforms since I’m an already established expert in beauty products—and Michelle could cover the retail aspect of the store openings around the world?

This could be a great learning experience for Michelle to expand her blog.

What are your thoughts?

Xoxo,

Fiona

Who did she think she was?What a bitch.She had no right to assume what Ishouldorshouldn’tdo with my blog. First off, who signed off on a professional email with “xoxo”? And second, who made her the executive decision-maker to push my contractual duties aside to suit her needs? That damn bug was biting my skin, and I wanted to crush it like a mosquito.

I inhaled a deep breath, trying to calm the blood boiling within me. Kiera’s words about the special lipstick echoed in my mind. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted Kiera to send Fiona a whole box. Since Fiona considered herself an “established expert in beauty products,” she could experience the novelty lipstick that would send her to the hospital or a plastic surgeon.

Stay in your lane, or I’ll drag you by your blonde hair to where you belong—right into a pile of shit.Or I’ll strangle you with the strap of your Chanel bag so you can go out in style.

Oh. My. God.

I sounded like a horrible person. All of us—every single person, even a priest or a nun—had a side that would retaliate when pushed into a corner. My hands trembled with anger. I got up from my chair, released a heavy breath, and retrieved a bottle of cold water to chill the fire burning inside me.

As I gulped the water down, I envisioned it dousing the fire. I shouldn’t let her get under my skin like this.

Let it go. Chill.

Royce’s intense eyes appeared in my mind. I recalled the way those green pools had turned dangerously glacial. The frosty green color reminded me of a winter meadow sleeping beneath the snow, and that image chilled my internal heat immediately. My body shivered, but not from anger. Instead, it was from wondering what it would feel like if he stared at me with those captivating eyes under different circumstances. Some might shiver from fear, but I’d tremble with desire.

Jeez. That was a one-eighty turnaround.

Feeling better, I sat back down and read the email in a calmer mental state. Fiona had sent it to the CEO Margaret Evans, Becca, and me.

Margaret didn’t need to know about this littlenuisance, which was why they appointed Becca to be the liaison between contractors and the company. I knew what Fiona was doing. Her parents were friends with Margaret, so she assumed she could step on everyone else’s toes, and no one would react.

Think again.

Fiona didn’t know I had very special toes. I imagined my big toe turning into a cute otherworldly creature that turned terrifying—when someone stepped on it—andbit her feet with its sharp teeth until she screamed like a baby.Then I would stare at her, admiring her pain.

Goodness. That was disturbing.

It was a good thing no one could see into my brain because I’d be imprisoned or sent to a psychiatric institution. I should stop watching fantasy movies, which I often did when I visited places filled with magic and lore. Instead, my mind conjured some high-tech fancy shoes with an embedded weapon that would appear at my command. That weapon would stab at Fiona’s feet, ruining her designer shoes and reminding her never to mess with Michelle Yates again.

Yes, that was more in line with the Super Spy Girl in me. No one messed with the SSG 003.

Straightening my spine, I drafted my reply.

Dear Fiona,

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