“I’m the cruel one? You led me on, Ryan. You made me think I was important to you, that this was going somewhere.”
“Why would you think that, Blair? We were never really official. We fucked, we had fun. But it’s obvious I was right. You are a bitch. Clover is so much better than you.”
I laugh. Clover is one of the weakest witches in our coven, she will get what’s coming to her next.
“Make the recording stop,” he bellows, trying to push more audio buttons.
“I’ve only just gotten started, Ryan. You fucked with the wrong bitch.”
I keep the recording playing, knowing as soon as I get out of range, it will turn off, anyway. That felt really nice. So nice that for a few moments I forget about my coven, or the fact that I need to deal with that whole situation. My high slowly leaves me as I get closer and closer to Hex.
I do at least admire the bright yellow posters down Main Street while I park my car and walk the rest of the way to the restaurant.
It’s nice having no one here. I closed for the night, which all the employees seemed to be happy about. See—not a bitch of a boss.
Stevie said she might come join me. She’s not loving sitting in the house all day, so I leave the front door unlocked as I head back to the office.
It’s time to get down to what the Hell is going on with the finances. I’m definitely in a mood as I open up the multiple accounting systems and stare at the numbers. None of it makes any sense. I want to break down, but I keep myself together. If I break down, I won’t be able to pick up the pieces. There’s too much to do. Stevie is depending on me. I’m great at magic and managing people, I can even cook a decent meal. But when it comes to numbers, potions, and baking, I usually leave it to Stevie. It’s like the numbers move while I’m staring at the screen. Supposedly these things are supposed to be idiot proof but clearly not.
I groan and fold my arms over the desk and lay my head down. I’ll figure it all out for us. Why the coven wanted to hurt me and used Stevie to do so. Hell, if it comes down to it, I’ll move Stevie and me so far away from here that they’ll never be able to find us. The deepest, most proud part of myself won’t allow it, though. Hallowsdeep might be a cesspool, but it’s my cesspool.
There’s a light tapping on the door. “Come in,” I say, assuming it’s Stevie. To my surprise, it is a very hot-looking Dax. He’s wearing a heather gray shirt that is so tight I can see his nipples. The short sleeves show off all his beautiful black and gray tattoos. His hair is an organized mess on the top of his head. He looks delicious, and I haven’t forgotten that Ryan hasn’t suffered enough. Dax is the sexiest piece of vengeance I could have asked for.
“Oh, hey.”
“Hey, hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he says with a smirk on his face.
“Just sitting here trying to figure out where this money is going.”
He walks over and stands behind me. “I’m a bit of a QuickBooks savant. Do you want some help?”
Usually my pride won’t let me ask for help. But Dax didn’t need to offer, and the amount of time I’ve spent hovered over these computer screens trying to figure it out is enough for me to comply and agree to his help.
I stand up from the chair, and he sits down. He looks at me expectantly and then taps his knee. “You’re gonna want to get comfortable, babe.”
I blush. Fucking blush and flatten my skirt out and sit on his knee. His large hand wraps around my waist, holding on to my hip while he uses the other hand to navigate the mouse.
He scrolls through, opening up receipts, not speaking to me but focusing on the numbers. Dax squints and groans. He pulls out a pair of black-rimmed glasses and puts them on. How in the fuck does that make him even hotter? He’s like every girl’s sexy older hot professor fantasy. I wiggle on his lap a little bit, and his hold gets tighter on my hip.
“Your cash drawer is what’s short. But only every three days.”
“What?”
He points to the screen, his fingertips digging into my flesh, making me shift a little deeper into his lap. His jeans brushing against the bare skin of the back of my thighs.
“it’s small amounts. Like fifteen to twenty dollars. Not enough to notice regularly. It also looks like your produce amounts don’t actually match what’s being delivered. Looks like it hasn’t been going on for very long. Maybe a few weeks.”
“So one of my employees is stealing from me?” Just add one more person to the list of everyone who hates Blair.
I can’t help it when my back sags against Dax’s chest. I’m exhausted, you can only get beaten down so many times before you break. It feels like it’s me against the world right now. Well and Stevie, who is so scared of our coven she’s afraid to leave the house.
“What color gray is it?” I think back to our last conversation and how we rated our day on the scale of white to black. It makes me smirk a little over the fact he remembered.
“Honestly, pitch fucking black,” I say. Vulnerability isn’t something I’m used to, but he calms me.
“Can I make it better?” he whispers in my ear. I realize now that both of his hands are on me. One fiddling with the end of my skirt while the other is planted on top of my thigh. His tan skin against my pale tattooed thighs.
“How would you make it better?” I ask, trying to not sound like I’m panting for it.
