Page 21 of F*ckboys

"Nice of you to finally join me," he drawls, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down my spine.

Grave's unsettling calmness permeates the air as he peels an apple with a flick knife, an oddly casual gesture that contrasts with the tense atmosphere it creates. Apple peelings are discarded haphazardly on the floor, symbolizing his nonchalant disregard for the sanctity of my office.

"I hate it when you do that, you know," I remark, my eyes narrowing at him. He smirks, revealing a hint of amusement beneath his stoic exterior. "It's a small price to pay for getting to work with me though, isn't it, when you really think about it?"

I sigh, shaking my head. Grave fascinates me. On one hand, he appears to be a straightforward guy driven by primal desires—yet on the other, there's a complexity about him that eludes complete understanding.

"Hey, get up. I want to sit in my own chair. I feel like a client over here. I can't think like this." I plop down on the overstuffed couch, watching as Grave, with a nonchalant shrug, complies, removing his massive legs from my sleek white desk.

"Now you know how the clients must feel," he replies, his tone sardonic. "You towering over them with your opinions and your advice."

I roll my eyes. "Haha, you're hilarious. Anyway, to answer your question, yes, we have a client. I think this is going to be a fairly simple transaction. A just desserts type of scenario."

"Aren't they all?" Grave's retort is laced with a dark humor befitting of his enigmatic persona.

As we discuss the details of our new case, I can't help but study him. The way he moves, the way he speaks—he pulls it off as casual, but in reality it's more like a choreographed dance, each step carefully calculated and executed. He's a mystery that I've been trying to unravel for years, and every time I think I'm getting closer, he slips through my grasp.

It's infuriating and intoxicating all at once, and I couldn't imagine anyone else working with me in the capacity he does. My sidekick. My fixer. My literal partner in crime.

As I sit here, observing the man who has become such an integral part of my life, I wonder what secrets still lurk beneath the surface, and what hidden depths he has yet to reveal. And as much as I crave the answers to these questions, I can't deny thethrill of the chase—the exhilaration that comes from trying to solve the enigma that is Grave.

"Fallon?" he asks, snapping me out of my thoughts. "You okay?"

"Fine," I reply, forcing a smile. "Just lost in thought about why I let you continue to flick apple peels all over the floor of my office. By the way, that's the part that contains the most fiber. Now, let's get back to business."

He crunches into his apple as he takes a seat in my overstuffed couch, leaning into the cushion with one of his burly arms splayed across the back.

"Alright, let's talk about this new case," I say, focusing my attention on the file in front of me. "Matilda Smith. Twenty-six years old. Real estate agent who works upstate. She's been a victim of revenge porn. Her ex-boyfriend decided to release some private photos and videos after their breakup. Some of them have gone viral, and she's getting harassed both online and offline. It's been damaging to her career and obviously embarrassing on a personal level having that kind of material released without her consent."

Grave's expression darkens as he listens intently, his eyes reflecting an understanding of the darker aspects of human behavior that I've come to rely on in our work together. Our partnership thrives on our complementary skills—my strategic mind and his tactical expertise—and together, we're pretty much unstoppable. "What do we know about the ex?" he asks, his voice low and dangerous.

"His name is Jacob Daniels. He's your typical entitled prick—rich family, never had to face any real consequences for his actions." My hands clench into fists at the thought of yet another woman being humiliated like this. There are people who do insane things out of desperation, but this man has financial means, and his actions have clearly been driven by malice. Itfuels my desire for vengeance, pushing me to keep going despite the darkness that surrounds us. "Sounds like he needs a taste of his own medicine," Grave says, his tone laced with menace.

"Exactly," I reply, a grim smile forming on my lips. "We're going to make him regret ever crossing Matilda Smith."

The office door opens, and Mia walks in, her petite figure and curly dark hair a warm contrast to the somber atmosphere. She's accompanied by an attractive young woman who looks visibly shaken and vulnerable. The sight of her like this only strengthens my resolve.

"Matilda, thank you for coming in," I say, rising from my chair. "This is my associate, Grave. We'll be handling your case together."

Grave steps off to the side, allowing Matilda to take center stage while Mia discreetly steps out of the office. Despite the occasional irritation he causes, I can't help but appreciate the reliability and loyalty he brings to our unconventional partnership. He reads clients well, too, accurately judging their body language even while they're in high states of distress.

"Nice to meet you," Grave says, his voice surprisingly gentle given his imposing stature. Matilda manages a small smile, her eyes darting between the two of us.

"Thank you both for helping me. You can call me Maddie by the way," she mumbles, her voice quivering. "I'm here because I just can't take it anymore."

"Maddie, we're going to do everything in our power to make this right," I assure her, my voice firm and steady. "Jacob Daniels will pay for what he's done to you."

"Thank you," Maddie whispers, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Let's get started," I say, determination coursing through me. Grave nods in agreement, his presence a constant reminder of the unique bond we share—a bond forged in darkness, vengeance, an unspoken understanding of each other's pain, anda commitment to delivering justice and retribution for those who have been wronged. And perhaps, in doing so, we'll find our own salvation in the shadows.

"We have the basics from our intake information, but tell us again in your own words," I say, turning my attention back to Maddie, "what exactly did Jacob do?"

She swallows hard, tears welling up in her eyes. "He...he posted intimate pictures of me online. Pictures that were only ever meant for his eyes."

"Did you consent to those pictures being taken?" I ask quietly.

"Yes," she whispers. "But not to them being shared with anyone but Jacob. It's mortifying, having my naked body plastered all over the internet. My clients have seen them. My family has seen them. And they're not like… tasteful nudes where the most sensitive parts are obscured. You can see everything. And I meaneverything." Her face somehow seems to redden and pale at the same time. "And that's just the photos. There are actual videos as well."

---