Silenced

by Alicia Renee Kline

“I understand that you’re upset. And I’m your friend; you know that. I’ll listen to you if you want or need to talk to me, because it’s what I do. But you also need to know that I will give that same regard to Lauren. And I’m keeping my opinions to myself, because I love you both.”

  She nodded, her shoulders rising as she took a deep breath in an effort to compose herself.

  “But none of the negativity enters these doors, do you understand? When we are here, we are not talking about this shit. Want to talk about my sex life? Fine. But your mommy issues are off limits at work. Starting right now, which is why I’m sending you back home because you are worthless to me like this.”

  “Gracie,” she protested.

  “Blake. I mean it. I already checked your schedule. It’s nothing that I can’t handle. You know that. And you also know that your ten o’clock appointment wouldn’t hire you based on this first impression you’re rocking.”

  She knew I was right, even if the words wouldn’t form behind those lips. And I knew she knew when she opened her desk drawer and lifted her purse back out, swinging it over her shoulder.

  “Go home and get yourself together. If it takes the rest of this week, so be it. I’ll be fine. And if I’m not, I won’t let you find out.”

  I smiled, just to take the edge off. She didn’t return the expression, but she had given up the fight. It was apparent that I’d won.

  “Are you okay to drive?” I pressed. “I can take you home, or I can call Chris to come get you.”

  “No, I’m good,” she allowed. And really, I didn’t want to strip away her last shreds of dignity by arguing with her further.

  So I let her go, sending her on her way with a hug and a promise that I couldn’t deliver upon. That everything would be okay. Because I had no clue how this thing would shake out, and if I began hypothesizing about it, I’d be over in the corner myself, arms wrapped around my legs, rocking back and forth.

  If ever there was a time I was glad I was an only child, now was it.

  Five minutes passed between Blake leaving and me grabbing my cell and calling Chris. It went straight to voice mail, meaning he was likely already on the ambulance. This explained quite a bit, namely the fact that he’d let her leave the house looking like death warmed over.

  “Hey Christopher,” I cooed, not bothering to identify myself. He didn’t need it. “I sent your wife home. I think she’s fine to drive, but she is an absolute wreck otherwise. I know why she’s upset, because Lauren told me about her mom. I’m assuming that now she knows and she’s not impressed. But I didn’t get anything out of her myself. I’m assuming that you’re a better candidate to talk her down off the ledge right now, because she wasn’t keen on sharing, and I pretty much banned her from talking about it here anyway. So have fun with that, and let me know that she’s okay. Call me if you need me. Toodles.”

  I pocketed my phone and set about the next task of business, which was salvaging the appointment that I was taking over. Fortunately for me, it was a residential client according to Blake’s calendar. Probably why she’d relented so easily to my demands.

  “Let’s see,” I mumbled to myself, “if I were Blake’s notes, where would I be?”

  I rummaged through her desk drawers in search of any clue as to what had already been discussed. The bottom drawer - where her purse was kept - was locked, and I wasn’t about to betray that confidence. Maybe that was where she kept her financial stuff, and considering the plush career I’d stumbled into, I had no reason to pry.

  What I was looking for was tucked underneath her desk planner anyway. A cheat sheet with the client’s name, address and a brief description of the job itself. As usual, it was an onsite consultation, meaning I needed to get myself into the car for the commute to the northeast side of the city.

  My nerves were working overtime as I settled into the Lexus and punched the address into my navigation system. Will had intimated before that I never seemed to be on edge, and he was wrong. I’d just assigned myself to my first solo project, and was now feeling the pressure to perform.

  Before leaving the virtual safety of the alley behind the shop, I closed my eyes and breezed through the mental checklist. Yes, I’d locked up the building. I had my bag of supplies with me: the studio’s camera, a tape measure, a notepad and a pen, a couple different swatches of paint and fabric samples. All that remained was my confidence.

  I reached the client’s house all too quickly, and gave myself a moment in the driveway of the tastefully landscaped brick ranch to pump myself up. Self-proclaimed rule number one was to never let the client in on the fact that I was flying by the seat of my pants.

  Said advice wasn’t easy to listen to when the front door opened and I was greeted with the homeowner’s astute observation that I was not my boss.

  “Blake’s a bit under the weather today,” I explained to the middle aged woman standing before me. With my boots to assist, I had to practically bend down to look her in the eye.

  “We can reschedule,” she suggested.

  “Oh no, that’s not necessary. I’m her partner, Gracie Alexander. I happened to have room in my schedule today, so I offered to take this appointment on her behalf so there wouldn’t be any inconvenience to you.”

  “I thought Blake was married? To a man?”

  “She is,” I confirmed as the woman stepped aside to allow me entrance. Then it dawned on me what she meant. And here I’d thought the term “partner” was better sounding than “peon she hired out of pity”.

  The woman continued to look me over from head to toe, either trying to imagine me in bed with my boss or daring me to deny it. For a split second, I wondered if it would help my cause to play along with things. Eventually, I decided on the truth.

  “Her husband is totally hot. But he convinced her that business had picked up to a level that she couldn’t possibly handle on her own, so that’s where I came into the picture. It’s a fairly new development; I typically don’t work with her repeat customers because I know how solid her working relationships with her clients are.”

  That settled, I moved onto the real reason for my house call. “So we’re taking a look at updating the living room?”

  The next few minutes were spent conversing about the space itself and her goals for what she wanted to see once all was said and done. If I was a betting woman, my assessment was that Blake’s expertise hadn’t come close to touching the living room. I wondered what decorating my fearless leader had done here.

  “Well, that about wraps it up,” I chirped as I stashed my tools back in my bag. “When Blake gets back to the office, I’ll fill her in on everything we talked about today, and she’ll be in touch. You’re on board with my suggestions about the color palette, correct?”

  “I’m sorry, I think you misunderstood me,” the lady told me.

  I bent down unnecessarily to allow my hair to fall over my face to hide my disappointment. As I pretended to be mesmerized by the contents of my bag, I scolded myself relentlessly. Why had I been so optimistic that I could wing this appointment and come out on top? What worked romantically for me did not work in the business world, it seemed.

  “I want you to handle this project, not Blake,” she finished.

  My head jerked up in surprise. I waited a beat to respond so I didn’t look too much like a novice. “You’re certain?”

  “I’m positive. I feel like you really understand what I’m looking for. And if Blake’s confident enough to bring you on board, then that says a lot about your talent.”

  “Very well then. Let me get back to the studio, put some stuff together for you, and come up with an invoice. Provided everything looks good to you, we could be moving forward by the end of next week. Sound good?”

  “Sounds perfect. I’ll be looking forward to hearing back from you.”

  She walked me through the foyer and to the front door, shaking my hand firmly before she sent me on my way. I held off on celebrating my victory until I had pulled away fro
m the house and was well on my way back to the studio. Anything less would have just been tacky.

  I was deep in thought at the worktable, full creative mode turned on when the chimes over the front door alerted me to the fact that I had a visitor. I bit my lip, concerned that Blake hadn’t been able to stay away for longer than a few hours and hopped down from my stool to investigate.

  It was then that my day got even better. Before me stood a vision in a policeman’s uniform, and my heart caught in my throat as I drank him in.

  “Can I help you, sir?”

  I crossed the reception area in a few quick steps, eliciting a crooked grin from Will. It was crazy how just a few short days of absence had made his unexpected appearance the greatest gift I’d ever received. The fact that he came bearing lunch made the surprise that much sweeter.

  “I heard that you were on your own today. Thought I’d stop by and make sure you took a break.”

  “News travels fast,” I observed. “So I take it you spoke with Chris?”

  Even though I was drawn to him like a magnet, I brushed past him to attend to the door. I latched it tight, just to make sure we wouldn’t be interrupted, dimmed the lights in the storefront, then took his hand and led him back into the workroom.

  “Yeah, he got your message. He called Blake; she insisted she was fine. But he had me go over there to check.”

  “And?” I prodded as I cleared off a space for us to eat. There was no way I was going to spill ketchup all over the inspiration for my first real project.

  “And you’re right. She doesn’t look like herself. And I couldn’t help but notice the giant hole in the wall by her door, but she didn’t seem to want to talk about it. Which I can’t say I’m upset about.”

  “I already told her I won’t pick sides.” I plucked a french fry from the bag he set down between us and chewed thoughtfully. “So is that our official stance?”

  “That we don’t want to be involved?”

  “You got it. Even though it’s so convoluted, it can’t help but trickle down to us in some form. But I doubt we’ll have to worry about dinner parties for a while. We’ll just get the ‘he said, she said’ shit until this works itself out.”

  “I can’t say I’ll miss the dinner party aspect.”

  I snorted. “Because the last one was so horrible?”

  “The last one was nerve wracking, to say the least.”

  “Ah, but it was worth it in the end.” I took out the sandwiches, checked for onions, and slid his across the table to where Blake normally sat. “Sit down.”

  “Do you mind?” He motioned to his handcuffs and gun.

  “Make yourself comfortable.”

  He removed both items from his belt, placing them on the table. Great care was taken on his part to keep the gun as far away from me as possible, knowing my distaste of firearms. Sure, they were a necessary evil in his line of work, but that didn’t mean I had to like them any better. It was a solemn reminder of the risk he assumed every time he went on duty.

  “Are you off work?” I asked around a mouthful of burger.

  He nodded, then reached over and wiped a spot of ketchup off my face. He licked the condiment off his finger slowly, absolutely for my benefit. I didn’t tear my eyes away from his lips until he asked me about my own day.

  “Things turned out better than expected. Once I convinced Blake’s ten o’clock that I wasn’t a lesbian, I landed myself a new client.”

  He ignored the lesbian reference and cocked his eyebrow. “Your first client? Congratulations.”

  Heat flooded my cheeks at his acknowledgment of my accomplishment. There was never any doubt that Will paid rapt attention to everything that I told him, but for him to pick up on that milestone was monumental to me.

  “What?” he asked when I didn’t immediately respond.

  “Nothing. Thanks.”

  “You didn’t think I’d remember.”

  I stared down at the wrapper of my sandwich, unsure of what to say. Though I’d never considered myself lonely before him entering my life, the cast of characters that I’d actually mattered to was a short list. And no one had ever proclaimed their love to me before, in words or in actions.

  The stool beside me scraped along the floor as he pushed it back. I felt his breath on my neck as he positioned himself behind me. My body reacted to his presence, goose bumps erupting on my arms.

  He curled a strand of my black hair around his finger, pressing his lips in the spot behind my ear. On high alert, I sprang to attention. A soft, intensely satisfied chuckle escaped from his throat before he continued.

  “I remember everything I’ve learned about you. I hang on every word that you say. You love ponytails and high heels. You hate onions and babies, though you’re warming up to Sadie. You’ve never been in love before, and for some strange reason, you chose me for that honor.”

  I shivered, my eyes fluttering shut as heat rose to my cheeks. He was right about everything, unless you considered his less than stellar observation of his own worth. The divorce had knocked him down a couple notches, if he’d ever had the confidence to begin with.

  And our relationship was still too new to ask him point blank. Every time I’d broached the subject before, he’d closed himself off. I needed to get him to spill on his own terms, whenever he was ready. I could wait.

  To further steel my resolve, I opened my eyes and focused on the first thing that I saw, which just happened to be the handcuffs on the worktable. Intrigued, my index finger traced one of the bracelets.

  “Whatever you’re thinking, the answer’s no,” Will said.

  “Hmmm?” I purred, not willing to let it drop. Instead, I hooked my finger around the metal and lifted the handcuffs up for further inspection.

  Will stifled a groan as the cuffs slid down my finger. His actions betrayed his words, for I clearly felt him harden against me. I leaned back, my spine pressing into his erection. An answering twinge made itself known between my legs.

  “Why not?” I asked.

  “It’s unsanitary.”

  I snorted, destroying whatever moment I’d created entirely. My hand dropped, the handcuffs jangling to the tabletop. I spun around on my seat to meet his eyes, begging for clarification.

  “Those,” he stammered, pointing to the offending objects, “have touched bad people. Drug dealers. People that beat up their wives. Gang members. Killers. Rapists.”

  “You don’t wash them?”

  He paused, considering. It was a valid question, and I didn’t know about police protocol in regards to sanitation. I supposed I’d always considered that at some point the damn things would be disinfected from time to time. If not, I wasn’t certain I wanted them on the table, let alone on my body.

  “You know, antibacterial wipes or anything?” I prompted.

  Met with silence, I bounced off my stool and to my feet. Before he could question me, I returned with a solution, fresh from the depths of my purse.

  “These won’t rust, will they?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  I plucked a towelette from my convenient travel pouch and wiped the handcuffs down.

  “I never knew you were a germaphobe, Gracie.”

  “I’m not. These are makeup remover wipes, but I figure they’ll do.”

  Will just stared.

  “I do my makeup in the car sometimes. Sometimes I make mistakes.”

  Again with the silent treatment.

  “I probably shouldn’t have admitted that to a cop. I promise it’s only at stoplights. Sometimes if I’m stopped by a train.”

  “Shut up, Gracie.”

  Those emerald green eyes of his bore into my soul, commanding me to stop even if his words couldn’t. In their depths, I saw about ten thousand thoughts reflected, the most dominant one being lust. I could work with that. His gaze traveled from my face to the handcuffs and back. A groan of desire erupted from his throat, the sound of his resolve breaking.

  And I stood before him,
eyelashes blinking innocently, the invitation clear. My hand shook, rattling the metal and betraying the calmness I was attempting to exude. My tongue exited my mouth and licked my lips, waiting for him to make the next move.

  When he didn’t immediately take action, I managed to say “They’re clean now.”

  “Fuck it,” Will breathed. He crossed the distance I’d created between us in the span of one footstep. “Trust me?” he asked into my ear.

  I nodded. Of course I did. If not, I never would have brought up the proposition. And now that we were delving into uncharted territory, I realized how big a step this was for us. Somehow I doubted that Stephanie had ever suggested or allowed this level of intimacy, and here we were, tentatively building something unique to our relationship. Take that, bitch.

  “Don’t go easy on me,” I begged.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it, darling,” he growled.

  I dropped the handcuffs into his outstretched palm, watching them leave my grip as if in slow motion. His fingers bent around them, and we both stared at his hand for a moment, processing the transfer of power.

  I’d love to say that I gave him a run for his money, but that would have been a lie. Approximately two seconds after the handoff, he’d spun me around, bent me over the worktable, and the bracelets were snapping securely into place, binding my wrists behind my back.

  Message received. Never mess with Will. He was a badass in his own right.

  My breathing came in ragged pants, the cause of which certainly wasn’t exertion. His own breath was equally labored as he hovered over me. My cheek pressed against the solid surface of the table, I closed my eyes and drank in the heady sensation of losing all control.

  Enough wits were left about me, however, to guarantee we didn’t do it right there. Horny or not, I wasn’t about to have him gallantly sweep everything off the table with his arm. Knowing my luck, the hard work I’d already put in on my new client would be ruined. Plus, I’d be mortified the next time I had to sit across from Blake here and have a business conversation.

  “There’s a futon in the apartment upstairs,” I announced, my voice muffled with the position of my face.