Playing with Power - Book 5: New Adult Office Romance (7 page)

7.

Lauren berated herself the entire way home.
Why didn’t I just tell her? After everything that happened with Nick, even though it fucking sucked, I’d still want to know. I feel so fucking scummy, like I’m covering for Parker. That poor girl deserves the nicest man in the world yet she’s stuck to that son-of-a-bitch. And everything she said about the company? Damn. I knew things were bad, but why didn’t I see it before? I have to tell Landon about all this.

She tucked her chin a little deeper into her knit scarf. The temperatures were still warm during the day, but autumn was quickly creeping in at night. The nights came on a little faster, the cold cutting through her clothes. The two-for-one cocktails swimming through her system were doing a good job of keeping her warm, providing an invisible jacket that fought the chill. She made her way down the steps of the station, the stale warm air welcome for once. Slipping on her headphones, Lauren gripped the pole in the rocking car and yawned.

I’ll grab some soup on the way home, watch something on Netflix, and give Landon a call when I crawl into bed. Maybe we can even give phone sex a try...

A few minutes later, a cup of scalding hot chicken soup in hand, Lauren was walking the rest of the way to Damon’s building. She gazed up at the soaring high rises, feeling a little like a woman falling in love again but having to say goodbye. The city always felt a little more magical in the night. The darkness kept at bay by the myriad of lights, all the glowing windows representing thousands upon thousands of people she’d never meet.
I don’t care if I look like a tourist,
she thought as she tilted her head up and all around.
Screw ‘em if they can’t find the beauty in their own city.

Suddenly, her scarf tightened around her neck and she was yanked backwards into the darkness of a bottom floor apartment entrance. A scream choked in her throat as the invisible assailant looped the ends of her scarf around their hands, pulling the fabric even tighter around her neck. With a strong hand holding her shoulder, Lauren was pushed into the darkness. She twisted and fought her attacker but couldn’t move much.

“Take whatever you want. I have money in my purse. I haven’t seen your face, just take it and go.” Her voice came out in a rasp, from fear and constriction. The attacker paused and Lauren immediately jumped on the hesitation, sensing that perhaps the person was having second thoughts. “Please, don’t do anything...take whatever you want and let me go.”

With a sudden and hard shove, Lauren toppled forward. A dizzying flash of pain shot through her head as she collided with a metal door. She landed in a heap at the entrance, her head throbbing, and consciousness fading away for a moment. She shook her head, not knowing what had happened.
Did I faint? Oh Jesus, my soup. Did I spill my soup?
Shaking herself a little to clear her head, the danger of the situation came flooding back.
Fuck, no, someone just hit me.
As her panic returned, she immediately saw Nick in her mind’s eye.

Her hands were covered in a warm liquid that she briefly thought was blood. On quick inspection, she realized it was the chicken soup slowly leaking through the lid. The hot container was still clutched in her hands, tucked against her body. She heard the rustle of leaves behind her as the attacker approached, the sound of their heavy breathing became her entire world.

Suddenly, an overhead light flicked on, bathing the dark foyer in light. The tenant had obviously heard the commotion outside and was looking to investigate. Lauren heard the attacker gasp and step back. This was her chance. Tearing the lid off the soup, Lauren quickly twisted onto her knees and threw the contents towards the person’s face. So sure her attacker was Nick, she was shocked to hear a feminine voice scream out.

“You fucking bitch!”

Lauren shimmied back and pounded on the door, but heard no sounds coming from inside the apartment. It was the first time she’d gotten a good look at her assailant. Dressed in all black with a hoodie pulled up, the figure clutched at her face and cursed. Lauren scrambled to her feet and hesitated. Although she seemed incapacitated, her doubled-over body still blocked the stairs to the street.
I’ll have to go through her,
she thought with startling clarity. Quickly closing the distance between them, Lauren took advantage of the element of surprise. With a strong shove, she knocked the assailant to the ground. As the woman tried to brace herself, her hands flung the dark hood away, revealing her face.

For a moment Lauren thought it was a trick of the light.
It can’t be...
but as the figure on the ground rolled to her back, she knew.

“
Rochelle
? What the fuck are you doing?” Lauren shouted as she stepped closer. The anonymity of the attacker removed, her fear was quickly replaced with anger. Rochelle sat up, bracing herself as if she wanted to leap to her feet. Her eyes were dark and sharp, focused on Lauren’s movements.

“If I scar from that shit, I’m totes suing you to pay for my plastic surgery.”

“No, don’t move, you fucking stay right there.” Lauren felt a warm trickle of blood run down the side of her face from her temple, the sensation enraging her further.
Parker must’ve come to his senses and fired her finally. Of course, she’d blame me and not the guy whose dick she was sucking.
“You had to have known this might happen. It’s not like you ever actually had any loyalty to us!”

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t give a shit about the people there,” she muttered. “What the fuck do you know about loyalty, anyway?”

Lauren shook her head and bent the grab her purse. She gasped as a jagged flash of pain fired through her side. “I don’t even understand what the hell you were trying to do.”

Rochelle’s smirk turned into a low chuckle. Her blonde hair hung in limp clumps, torn loose from her high ponytail. She looked gaunt, her face thin and skin stretched.
She looks insane,
Lauren thought. “So clueless. This isn’t some Bond movie. I’m not just, like, gonna spill my guts cause you asked. Sahra was right about you.”

“What the fuck does Sahra have to do with anything?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know!” This sparked another round of eerie giggling and Lauren just wanted to put some distance between them.

“Fine, whatever. You’re obviously unhinged or something, so I’m just gonna leave,” Lauren said holding her hands up. She side-stepped to the stairs and turned to ascend, but Rochelle was too quick. Before she even had time to register the crunch of the gravel behind her, Lauren’s head was wrenched back. A fiery pain shot through her scalp as she was led by her hair, nearly knocking her off balance yet again.

With a grunt, Lauren twisted under the grip of the ponytail and swung a looping fist as hard as she could towards Rochelle’s stomach. The impact weakened her grip but she still held on. Lauren noticed the girl was wearing thin running shoes. Without another thought, she jammed her pointy heel into the center of Rochelle’s foot and twisted. The girl screamed in pain, loud enough to finally attract the attention of anyone walking by. The heel stuck in Rochelle’s foot as she tried to yanked it out.
Oh God, I’m gonna puke.
Not sparing another look, Lauren took off down the block toward Damon’s apartment building.

She didn’t remember getting her phone out or even dialing, but she suddenly became aware of Landon’s voice in her ear.

“Hey babe, how’s it going.”

“I was just attacked.” Lauren’s voice sounded disembodied and flat, foreign to her ears.

“
What
? If Nick put one fucking finger on—”

“No, it wasn’t him. It was Rochelle. She knocked me down but I...I got away. I still don’t know why she did it. She came up from behind and...” Her words came out between panted breaths as she walked briskly home. Her body tingled with adrenaline and she was thankful for the darkness. At least the night hid her bloodied knuckles, knees, and face.

“Wait, this is the girl who I found out was working for another company, right? Jesus Lauren, are you alright? Did she—”

“No. She still works for us. Parker never fired her. Or, maybe he did and that’s what this is all about.” Lauren turned the corner onto Sixth Ave and breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of Damon’s building towering high.

“Are you serious? Wren, did she hurt you?”

She blinked back tears at the concern she heard in his voice. “I’m alright. Just a little scraped up, I guess,” she replied softly. “Bitch scared me half to death, though. Came out of nowhere.”

“This is unbelievable. Why hasn’t Parker gotten rid of her?”

Marco did a double-take from his desk as Lauren walked into the lobby, immediately jumping to his feet. “Ms. Kemp, your head—” but she waved him away, doing her best to flash him a warm smile.

“Hold on a sec, babe.” She tilted the phone away from her mouth, covering it slightly with her hand. “Marco, really, I’m fine. Thank you.” She pressed the elevator button and returned to Landon. “He hasn’t fired her because he’s fucking her.” That earned her another look from the doorman which she chose to ignore.

“Wren, tell me exactly where you are. I’m coming out tonight instead of tomorrow.”

Lauren stepped inside the elevator and leaned against the wall, suddenly feeling exhausted.
The adrenaline must be wearing off,
she thought. “Don’t be silly. I’m perfectly fine. I’m actually in the building now. I’m just going to clean up and go to bed. It’s been a really—”

“What if you have a concussion? Wren, seriously. Just wait a second.”

“Damon will take care of me,” she said sleepily. If she’d been more aware, she would have realized it was her first slip. Up to this point, Landon had no details of her living situation. He knew she was staying with a friend but now had a name. The elevator door opened and Lauren’s eyes fluttered open, locking with Damon’s. “Speak of the devil...”

“Lauren? Wren! I’m taking the next plane out. Will you please just tell me where you are so I can come to you when I land? I’ll search every damn building for a doorman named Marco.”

Her eyes flooded with tears when she saw the concern on Damon’s face. He gently guided her inside the apartment and she was reminded of Ali’s story about her mother the nurse.
When I saw the fear in her face I knew shit was serious.
“Marco said you were hurt and on your way up,” he whispered.

“I’m alright, Landon. I’ll just see you tomorrow. Really, I’m fine. I have to go.” Lauren didn’t wait for his protests, hanging up without another word. Her eyes drifted up to Damon’s, steely and filled with worry.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” He gently slid his hand around her back, tucking it under her armpit. She winced as he led her towards the bathroom. “Your ribs?” Lauren nodded through gritted teeth. He folded a towel and placed it on the closed toilet seat lid, gesturing for her to sit. “Alright, let’s take a look at you. Take your shirt and pants off.”

“Mr. Kael,” she giggled weakly. “You’ll have to at least buy me dinner.” She tried to her best to inject a little humor into the situation but his expression spelled no-nonsense.

“Lauren, if you have a broken rib, it might puncture your lung.”

The severity of the situation stabbed fear through her and she stood. Fixing a brave face, she let Damon strip the torn and bloodied clothes from her body. Standing in her black bra and black boy short underwear, she began trembling, the very core of her body seeming to quiver.

“Are you cold?” he asked as he reached for another towel to drape over her shoulders.

“No, not at all. I can’t stop shaking, though.”

Damon nodded and turned his attention to her ribs. “Just the adrenaline then. Fight or flight is a bitch.” His warm hands gingerly pressed along her side, stopping to ask her if she felt any pain.

“No, nothing too bad...just like a bruise.”

“What about here?” The way he crouched brought his face very close to hers. The scent of his aftershave filled her senses, bringing a flood of memories back from the night they’d spent together. She forced herself to focus but it felt so good to be touched.

“It’s good. I think I’m just sore, really.”

Damon scanned her face to detect any deceit but seemed satisfied enough. She thought she saw his eyes dart to her lips for a second. He brought his hand up, hesitating for a moment at her chin, then moved to brush the hair from her forehead. “This is probably going to scar if you don’t get stitches,” he muttered. “It’s less of a cut and more of a tear.”

Lauren shook her head vehemently. “No needles. I can’t stand needles. Besides, scars give you character.” She hoped it sounded more convincing to him than it did to her. She felt scared, childish, willing to let him take control of the situation.

“Alright, have it your way. Take a seat, I’ll just use a couple butterflies on it.”

She watched his expression as he began dabbing at the blood on her head. There was something about having him in such close proximity that made her feel uninhibited. It was a challenge to get a rise out of him, to be on an equal foot with him conversationally and intellectually. “Do you even know what you’re doing? What does a suit know about first aid? Maybe you should call an ambulance...”