Page 48 of Lost to Thievery
With a huff of indignation, I did as told, weaving through the busy corridor, not taking my eyes off the black tail confidently flicking from side to side. Who sent her anyway?
We made it into the bullpen, as Owen had called it. A large open plan area with cubicles and filing cabinets, printers and whiteboards everywhere. Agents were bustling about, a low hum of energy filling the air.
The little cat weaved in between a man’s legs, rubbing her head affectionately against him, completely forgetting my existence. It was Director Devereux. I quickly tried to backtrack, but his eyes pinned me down. I had been avoiding him and his disapproving glare since I came back. He hadn’t been very happy that I had returned, scolding me for putting my life in danger yet again, much like my own parents had scolded me.
“Oh, she’sperfect, Jo,” the woman next to him said, her hand frantically waiving me closer, staring at me like I was the answer to her prayers.
“Sorry?” I mumbled, feeling a little flustered by her intensity, giving the little black demon a glare, who was sitting patiently, looking up between me and the director with those yellow eyes, seemingly satisfied with herself.
“Mary, don’t even…” Director Devereux stopped mid-sentence as the woman approached me, clearly not listening to him. His jaw clenched, but he followed suit.
The woman looked me up and down, appraising me like I was a prized mare, with a twinkle in her eyes. She was a beautiful woman, the crows’ feet around her eyes as she smiled at me spoke of a happy life, with lots of laughter and love. Everything about her was graceful and elegant. From her perfectly styled blonde hair to her satin blouse and her classic black heels.
“Are you just gonna stand there with a mouth full of teeth or are you going to introduce us?” she asked Director Devereux with a raised brow.
I quickly remembered to close my gaping mouth as she turned expectantly towards me. No one has ever spoken to the director like that. I expected him to spew fire, but he only sighed and extended a hand towards her.
“This is my wife, Mary. Mary, this is Miss Beaumont.”
Mary shot Director Devereux a glare.
“Ava,” he corrected, shifting his shoulders uncomfortably.
She turned back towards me with a satisfied smile. “I’m sorry for bombarding you like this, sweetie. I didn’t mean to scare you,” she said, folding both her hands around mine as she shook it. “It’s just that you are perfect for our son!” she squealed excitedly.
“Mary!” Director Devereux warned, looking at her in shock.
“You see, our youngest son is getting married soon,” she continued, giving the director an innocent smile. “And I’m trying to find our eldest a date to the wedding. He’s so finnicky. But you, he’ll love! Oh, gosh! Where are my manners? You are single, right, sweetie?”
“That’s enough, Mary! This is highly inappropriate.” The director turned to me. “My apologies, Ava. My wife was just leaving.”
But Mary didn’t move. She waited for my reply, ignoring the director completely.
I laughed nervously at the strange, but motherly woman. She was the complete opposite of the stern, no-nonsense director. And she clearly had him wrapped around her finger. If it was anyone else disobeying him like that, they would be in a world of trouble. But Director Devereux’s shoulders dropped, accepting his defeat.
I pondered Mary’s question. I guess Iwassingle. Even if my soul was held captive by the devil. “I am. But I’m not dating at the moment. Sorry,” I added sheepishly swallowing at the sudden lump in my throat. Was this why the cat led me here?Because the gods wanted me todateagain? It was an absurd notion.
Dating felt like a completely foreign concept. Something that was worlds away. And if I was honest with myself, it felt too superficial compared to what I’d had. I had experienced real magic, why would I go back to clapping animatedly over parlour tricks? And even if I didn’t feel that way, dating was still something that I would never be able to take part in again, because my insides were too mangled. I was too ruined.
Mary studied me, understanding dawning in her eyes. “You’re still hurting over someone else.” Her eyes lingered on the pink scars on my neck. She was curious about them but thankfully didn’t ask.
I looked down to hide the tears prickling to get free. But I refused to cry. Damn this woman for saying it likethat. I wasn’t hurting. I was angry. At all of them. For ruining me this profoundly. At Grayson, for fucking me up so badly that I couldn’t even stand the thought of going on apity-datefor a mother worried that her son might feel alone at his brother’s wedding.
“Oh, me and my big mouth! I’m sorry, sweetie. I didn’t mean to upset you. Jo, why didn’t you stop me?” The director gaped at her as she pulled me into a tight hug. “I’m sorry you’re hurting, Ava. Whatever it is, I’m sure everything will work out exactly like they are supposed to. Just keep your faith, sweetie.”
I hadn’t realised how much I needed a hug. I hadn’t been home in ages, and I hadn’t realised how much I missed my mom.
Had the gods sent her to give me this message? But it wouldn’t work out, would it? Not the way I had secretly wanted it to. There was nothing left to work out. He had burned it all to the ground. And I was busy sifting through the ashes, trying to find anything left intact, just to finish the job myself.
“Mary, unhand the woman! She is a consultant for the goddamn FBI. You cannot just…” Director Devereux struggled to find the words, but Mary released me anyway.
“It’s okay, Jo…” My cheeks warmed at the unprofessional slip. “Sorry, I mean Director Devereux. I needed that hug.” I didn’t want him to be angry with his wife for being kind to a mess of a human being. She meant well.
The director slumped forward, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Well, after all that, I should be the one apologising.” He gave me a bemused smile, before ushering his wife to the elevator. Mary gave me a wave goodbye, struggling to keep me in sight, as the director herded her away.
“And here I thought it was only family and friends that got to call you by your name. Can I call you Jo too?” Liam asked, as he and Owen strolled up behind me.
The look he got from the director was cold enough to cover the whole room in a sheet of ice. “Get back to work, Taylor!”
