by Elena Monroe
My own personal Trojan Horse.
Justice didn’t even notice when I strolled past her desk without a word. She was too distracted, and it gave me the perfect opportunity to take her in.
Fiddling with a locket hanging from her neck, she continued to analyze my card.
It was a hideously chunky piece of jewelry in a heart shape, a locket, on a long chain. She zipped the pendant back and forth, grating my every nerve.
Sneaking up behind her desk, I stood a few feet away, when I said her name loud enough to make her jump.
“What the fuck is wrong with you? Were you dropped as a baby?” She tried, but I was immune.
“You're on my desk… starting now.” Already walking away, I didn’t wait to see if she followed.
Pushing my office door open, I dropped my briefcase on one of the tables, set down my coffee, and removed my suit jacket like I did every day. I was a routined man, regardless of how much that left me vulnerable.
Using the intercom button on my phone, connected to my secretaries desk, I said her name sternly. Without any response, I stood up and pushed my frost glass door open to see the desk abandoned before I headed back to the front desk.
“Did you think I was kidding?”
“What’s the magic word?” she hummed without even glancing my way.
This girl was un-fucking-real.
“I’m your boss.”
“Yeah, and I’m a human. Are we saying obvious things, or did you think that makes you better than everyone else?” She stood up, tucking my damn calling card between the folders she held along with her coffee.
At least she was a consistent mess.
“Yes, actually, it does... This rat race we call living? It’s all about how much control and power you end up with.” Already walking away, I spoke up, “If you want me to sign your paycheck tomorrow, I would hurry up. Enough incentive for you to do your job? Kind of how one works.”
I didn’t have to even steal a glance behind me; I could feel her seething with injustice. It burned my back, even at this distance.
Maybe she was the opponent I had been searching for to challenge me the way I never let Thomas.
“Someone really needs to slap your privileged ass down,” she said, while following me to my corner of the floor, so it lost its sharp edge.
Turning around, I stopped in front of my current secretary. “And you’re gonna be the pink-haired warrior who takes me down?” I challenged her scowl to turn into action, and the space between us seemed cluttered with tension out of thin air.
Taking a step towards me, she raised her chin, while our chests nearly touched. “My pink hair doesn’t make me weak any more than your small set of balls.”
She was definitely the opponent I had been waiting for. This was going to be my greatest win yet, when I finally broke her.
Looking down at her, I was almost an entire head taller than her short, petite frame that was easily ignored with her loud personality. “Oh, baby, you wish you knew exactly how big they were. Start by firing my current secretary.”
I heard the blonde bombshell squeak behind me in horror at the confession she hadn’t even heard yet.
Justice didn’t skip a beat protesting. “What? I’m not firing her. Why do you even need me if you have an assistant?”
Being this close to my own demise was refreshing—a kind of adrenaline rush I didn’t know what to make of yet. It was a close fucking second to winning... whatever it was. I didn’t even want to pull away, but the tension was melting into heat that was giving me a sense of clamminess to my palms I couldn’t withstand anymore.
Nerves?
The strong sense of losing close by?
Too much Justice flush against my corruption?
“Just fire her by the end of the day. I don’t ask twice.” Pulling away from her, I instantly felt a fresh breath make my lungs swell.
Finally.
Safely in my office, the slow closing door was toying with my sweaty palms, and I could still feel Justice’s scowl burning a hole in my back. Pushing my hair back with my hands, I felt her taking the battlefield without my permission.
How did this woman have that much power over me?
Looking at my laptop still open on my desk, I decided to dive into work to distract me from the pink hair activist with the ability to stand up to me. What I did for the Clave was a little bit of everything: finances, networking, connections, but mostly the sale of war tactics, including heavy artillery to the highest bidders, who were willing to pay the price I wanted—all to fund future years of the Clave.
I took my job very seriously, unlike the other guys. This wasn’t a means to an end or until I found a loophole. This was my life, in all its fucked up glory, and there is no way out.
I got lost in calls, emails, payroll for our office, and documents for those we hid in the shadows, doing the things we weren’t willing to do, as I blew through three cups of coffee. The espresso was burning a hole in my stomach when I hit the intercom button to speak.
“I’m thinking sushi today. Order me a few spicy salmon rolls.”
When I heard the sassy voice pour through the speaker I wanted to almost castrate myself. I mean, I might as well, if I wasn’t planning on using my dick later and making sure Justice knew exactly how big my balls really were.
“And? You have a phone and computer. Get it yourself.”
Clenching my fists, I pressed the button on the intercom again, trying to sound calm still. “That’s why I pay you.”
I was pretty sure Justice spoke again, but my attention was stolen by my stepmother, who had just texted me—she was the only other woman in my life who didn’t listen and enjoyed torturing me.
Hating her was hard. She volunteered everywhere she could, forced us all to do monthly dinners, and smiled through the pain, if her life had any.
Hating her was easier, though, when your mom abandons you for unknown reasons when you needed them most and you single handedly got to witness someone take her place.
The fact that Stepmommy gave my father three kids was only the tip of an iceberg floating under the surface.
I didn’t care who got loved the most. I only cared that they were half-breeds who were banned from Clave anything.
Thoroughbreds only.
Only I was subjected to be ruined at the hands of my father.
STEPMOMMY: Can you bring rolls to dinner later this week?
She loathed when I called her that, so it only made me use the word more.
She always made a point to make me feel included, accountable, and important. I respected her for that, but respect just isn’t love.
My father was a different story. Respect isn't something I got to choose as a feeling for him. It was expected under his reign, household, and funds.
Once he remarried all those expectations for me became even worse. I was the only Rockefeller left to continue where he left off.
A gift I wasn’t grateful for.
A life I didn’t get to choose.
A weapon used against me.
A home for the tortured against their will. That’s why the Clave worked so well; we could see in this kind of dark.
Justice cut through my focus again, when her voice filled my office: “Did you die without your pretentious fish?”
Typing a simple three letter word to my stepmom, yes, I hit the button on the speaker. “I’m signing payroll, and I don’t see you worked at all. Shame. Are you paying Abigail’s half of the rent too?”
“Calm your tits, Vicy. I’ll order your damn sushi.” I could hear the loss in her voice, and I almost contemplated if she was even more like me.
So the people she loves are her weakness.
Everyone has weaknesses, even her with reserves as strong as mine, albeit not nearly as merciless as mine.
Grimm definitely owed me two-fold.
JUSTICE
I had been on Vic’s desk for a solid week, which might as well have been an eternity. Every day
was stretched out and overworn.
I was still waiting for him to notice that his old assistant was sitting at the front desk and to throw a tantrum, like he did every time he didn’t get his way.
Not having siblings made my tolerance pretty much nonexistent, so instead, I found ways to balance the scales on my own.
Vic was comfortably in his office doing whatever he did for the Illuminati. In comparison, he seemed to actually have a pretty full day. Grimm came and went all he wanted; Khaos skateboarded more than he was in his own office; and Bowen went unseen, which just seemed creepy.
The phone on the desk rang, and after three rings, I came to the conclusion he wasn’t going to answer it himself.
I didn’t even know how to answer someone else’s phone, and that’s when my brilliant idea to fight fire with fire seemed like a good one. If he wanted to torture me, then I was going to sabotage him.
“Vicy’s office… How may I help you?”
The gentleman on the other end of the line sounded grated, like he had been chain smoking his whole life, and it resulted in this tough-guy voice.
“You tell Vic I need 17 M85s and his little hacker friend. Can you do that, sweetheart?”
He even breezed past my nickname for him. This guy was more serious than I expected.
I had to up the ante.
“Vicy is kind of busy right now… He’s taking a dump. Don’t know how long he’ll be…”
No one had a sense of humor here. The only person I made laugh with my sarcasm was Abigail.
“I don’t care what he’s doing. Give him the order. I want it by Friday.” The scratchy deep voice made my bones vibrate.
Okay, wrong audience.
My predecessor, Samantha, left her laptop, but it was no use to me. I didn’t have the log in or passwords.
Scribbling the info down on a Post-It, I walked into Vic’s office to see him there running shirtless on the treadmill he had in the corner of his office. I pretty much stopped in place, seeing him in basketball shorts, with sweat trailing down his body and AirPods pushed into his ears.
The same thick air I felt between us last time we were this close felt so heavy it was now taking over the room.
It made me swallow down whatever sensibility I had to not push the stop button on his work out and show him a better way to sweat.
I wasn’t shy when it came to sex. Getting off without any strings wasn’t only for the male species to enjoy. I took exactly what I lusted for and ran away, owning every part of my sexuality, before someone turned it into a fatal flaw.
Vic didn’t stop running when he looked at me like I needed to speak or get out.
“Some guy called and left a message for you.” Walking closer to his treadmill, I stuck the note to the front, where he’d be able to see it.
Even after I did it, I found myself not leaving the way a normal person should.
“Is that all?” His voice was smooth and only distorted a small amount from breathing heavily.
“Just one more second…” I crossed my arms and let my eyes squint, like that would help commit this image to my memory.
“I don’t fuck the help, so when you’re done staring, get back to work,” he sounded annoyed, but I saw the side of his mouth upturn, even though he was fighting it. He loved being admired, even by the help.
Just a moment longer, I told myself mentally. I had sixty seconds to soak up every delicious part of him, while he silently stared at the note I stuck to his treadmill. His features turned pensive with the note between his fingers as my eyes trailed down to meet his hands.
Scanning further down him, I spotted the head of a snake tattoo peering out of the band of his basketball shorts. Before I started drooling, I pivoted on my heel and practically strutted out of the office.
There was no denying Vic was hot. He was, and it felt almost illegal to stare that long.
The mental image was stuck to the inside of my brain, no matter how many free games I downloaded on my phone with my boots kicked up onto the desk, waiting for the phone to ring.
He wasn’t very popular.
Shocker.
I wasn’t naïve. I knew I was working for the Illuminati. I didn’t at first, but it didn’t take me long to figure it out, when you eavesdrop on conversations around you, collect the clues they drop, and try Googling anything.
Clave International Holdings was a ghost. Painfully aware that ghosts are essentially unfinished business, I came to the conclusion the names Rockefeller, Astor, DuPonte, and Rothschild had to mean more than power in their own right. It wasn’t coincidence or some kind of mistake; it was the work of something bigger.
Illuminati.
I was still trying to figure out how deep that rabbit hole went. How far I was going to have to fall to get Abigail back?
At least I could pretend she was someone I could get back.
If Vic wasn’t popular, even with prospective clients (or whatever you want to call them), then I was going to use this time to be productive, like making myself coffee. Just kidding, searching for Abigail was high on my list of priorities.
Making my way to Samantha, who was sitting pretty at the front desk, I needed to get the password and log in information for the computer.
Leaning against the desk, I said casually, “Hey, do you have the log in for the computer? I kind of need it.”
The blonde who looked right off the Victoria’s Secret runway didn’t even look up from her phone as she murmured some kind of “uh-huh” in my direction. I didn’t see this attitude coming when I saved her job.
It stung the air, and my skin that glowed with pride from doing just that.
“Can I have it?”
“Why don’t you get it from Vic?” Her voice was high pitched and a word I didn’t like to use when speaking of my fellow females: bitchy.
“Seriously? I saved your job. I’m not asking for a thanks, but damn girl.” Trying to change the tone, I made sure to add some pep to my words.
Finally putting her phone screen down so it was out of visibility, she looked at me with so much hate I felt like a one woman protest trying to break down a tough exterior in the name of feminism.
“You think you saved my job? You don’t know anything about Vic and me. You just took him away from me, so if you think I’m going to help you… you’re delusional.”
Ah, now I got it.
Vic didn’t fuck the help… only the help that looked like me. He had no problem with model types.
“I don’t like to get too preachy…” Leaning into the desk, still holding my cup, I kept my facial expression light still, with a small smile. “It’s really hard for me to keep fighting the good fight when intelligent, beautiful, amazing women keep letting dickheads wedge themselves between us.”
Her eyes went half-mast, and I could feel her picking Vic’s side in the war between girl power and a hot guy. Couldn’t really blame her, the only eye candy she had now consisted of a small hallway with an elevator on each side and the Clave’s logo hanging on the wall. No abs, no domineering personality, and no more lunch break quickies.
Tapping the desk with my hand, I gave her a wide-eyed expression, questioning her loyalties once more before I headed to the small kitchen we had on the same floor. When Vic was mad enough to acknowledge my presence, it felt like the greatest caffeine rush, but when he ignored you? You felt frozen in time, not able to accomplish much without vices.
After dropping off that note, he stopped torturing me for the next few hours. It was driving me to a kind of boredom that made me sleepy.
When I was at the front desk, it was much easier to get away with preparing for protests, using office supplies no one would miss, and managing my side hustles.
Without Abigail here, I felt even more alone.
The only other person I spoke to was Ethan, the resident gay, who also happened to be prolific in sitting Shiva, which made him a double threat—triple, if you counted his sass that made me clap most of the time.
Holding my very hot cup of coffee, no matter how much almond milk I dumped into it, I decided to detour from going back to my desk to complain to Ethan instead.
Setting the hot coffee down, I perched on the end of his long desk. “UGH. He’s so hot and so frustrating.”
He laughed, while applying new grip tape to a skateboard that I was sure was for Khaos, since the only sweating Ethan did was at the pole dancing classes he taught on Thursday nights.
“Which one now? I swear, you go through hot guys like they’re on sale, and you have an endless budget, girl.” His popped eyebrow only made me laugh more at his words.
“Apparently, I’ve been promoted to working Vic’s desk. All the good help keeps disappearing...”
“No word from Abigail?” He didn’t look up from cutting along the shape of the board and pushing the grip down flush with no bubbles. Khaos was notorious for skateboarding; it made him seem less elite than the rest.
Human.
Relatable.
“None. Not even her parents have heard from her. The cops don’t investigate unless there’s obvious foul play. The only lead I have is Grimm, who has literally been avoiding me. Maybe Khaos—”
Waving his hands in the air, he stopped working on the grip tape. “No, no. I’m gonna stop you right there. Have you ever played chubby bunny with Starburst?”
He actually waited for me to answer when the hot coffee nearly burned the laughter caught in my throat on the way down.
“Well, it ain’t fun, sis, and I love a full mouth. You need to stop that talk right now. You’re going to tempt him to come out here and torture me.”
I couldn’t help laughing, and it was only making his defenses even more dramatic with his hand movements and expressive eyebrows.
“Don’t get me involved, Miss Activist. Seriously.”
“He probably knows something, and he’s the only one who has some humanity left…” I tried pleading with him, but it wasn’t working. He was clearly unhinged, but I needed information.
I didn’t expect Khaos to pour from his office with sunglasses and a nip of Deep Eddy in a vibrant peach color. He stood behind Ethan with his hand trailing down his shoulder and lazily resting on his chest. “What do I know?”