8
Mercedes
My experience may be pretty limited, but somehow, I don’t believe the fire I have with Judge is something everyone has when it comes to sexual tension. When we come together, it’s like fireworks. He lights the fuse, and I explode. But much like I suspected, just as soon as he’s finished, he turns it off like a switch. His face returns to a neutral expression, and he dismisses me by telling me to go to bed.
I hate that about him. Even worse, I hate that I can’t read him. There’s no way for me to tell if he’s dismissing me because he got what he wanted or he’s trying to protect himself from feeling anything. I want to believe that might be the case, but I also don’t want to be a fool.
My bed feels emptier without him, and I’m not surprised when he doesn’t join me. I don’t expect to see him in the morning either, as it’s typical for him to run off and put distance between us. So when he comes into my room with a scowl on his face, I arch an eyebrow at him in question.
“Can I help you?”
Irritation flickers across his features, and if I didn’t know any better, it looks like I’m giving him a headache without even trying. That’s about the time I notice he doesn’t look rested at all. In fact, he looks fucking exhausted.
“Did you even sleep?” I ask.
Before he can answer the question, Lois and Miriam appear behind him and then shuffle into my room with boxes in hand.
“What’s going on?” Dread trickles down my spine as they disappear into my closet.
“You’re moving into my room,” Judge grunts in answer.
“What?”
He doesn’t look at all happy about this development, and it makes no sense.
“It’s temporary,” he assures me, but even he doesn’t look convinced of that.
“I don’t understand.” My eyes move over his face. “Has something happened?”
He sighs and then checks his watch. “Get dressed. I’m taking you out for the day.”
His avoidance of my question only irritates me more. “Is Santi okay?”
“Yes.” His eyes soften at the concern in my voice.
“And Ivy?”
“The same,” he says quietly.
I nod and get up, too tired to argue and not entirely sure I even want to know the reason behind the tension in his eyes. Things have only just begun to settle down, and I’m not certain I can handle anything else right now.
“Don’t you have to work today?” I wander into my closet and start rifling through a section of dresses where Lois and Miriam aren’t packing.
“I took the day off,” Judge says from behind me. “Wear leggings.”
I find it an odd request and wonder if it’s a personal preference or if there’s a reason behind it. But when I arch an eyebrow at him over my shoulder, all I receive in answer is a stony expression. The old me would have worn a dress just to be difficult, but I find that I don’t feel like arguing with Judge today. So I grab a pair of leggings and an oversized tee shirt and go into the bathroom to change.
When I exit, he’s waiting for me by the door to my bedroom, staring at what I know is my phone. By the renewed tension in his shoulders, I imagine he’s seen something he doesn’t like, but I can’t think of what it might be. Other than the texts from Georgie, of course.
“Everything okay?” I ask, and he shoves it into his pocket, jerking his chin at me.
“Let’s go.”
As we climb into the Rolls Royce, it doesn’t escape my notice that a guard from IVI sits in the front seat beside Raul. If that wasn’t strange enough, another car waits behind us with three more.
Judge secures my seat belt for me absently even though I’m more than capable of doing it myself, and then we sit in stilted silence as Raul navigates us to wherever we’re going.
“Judge.”
He doesn’t even seem to hear me, his gaze trapped outside the window, his mind clearly somewhere else.
“Judge.” I touch his face, and he blinks. He looks at me, and something strange flickers through his eyes. Something that makes me nervous because he looks concerned.
“Is there anything else you need to tell me, Mercedes?” His voice is uncharacteristically quiet.
“What do you mean?”
“Are there any other unfinished schemes in your past I need to be aware of?” His eyes narrow slightly.
“No.” My hand falls away. “Why?”
“Why were you in my office last night?” he demands. “What were you really looking for on your phone?”
Well, shit. I knew this question would come back to haunt me today, but I just didn’t think it would be so head-on.
“I told you I was looking for a number.” The big fat lie pours from my lips.
“What number?” His jaw clenches.
“A friend?” I don’t mean for it to sound like a question, but dammit, it does.
“Whose name is…?” He waits, his eyes darkening.
“Ana,” I blurt without thinking.
He doesn’t say a word, and the conflict between us only gets thicker. I’m too proud to admit I was rifling through his office in search of evidence of his affection for another woman. Any other woman. I wanted to find something to bolster my campaign of not letting him back in. Something to fuel my ire and prove that he’s a jerk of a liar just like me. But I found nothing. Not a single goddamned thing. And even though that doesn’t mean he can be trusted, it means holding on to my anger is becoming increasingly difficult.
“Who the fuck is Ana?” he growls.