Page 176 of Revenge Puck
I bark out a laugh. “Seriously, dude? How? This is a fucking disaster.”
“Appears that way,” he says, cool as a cucumber. “But you’re acting like it’s already over.”
I don’t answer.
He tilts his head. “Have you considered going to HR?”
I look up slowly. “What?”
“HR,” he echoes. “You march upstairs. Report the relationship. Make it official.”
“Are you out of your mind?”
“No,” he says rationally. “Think about it. If this was some revenge plot, you wouldn’t be voluntarily telling everyone in the entire company—you make it transparent.”
I drag a hand down my face.
“You’re asking me to light a match to her house.” Because let’s be clear—if HR decides there are consequences, it won’t be me they look at first.
It’ll be her.
Juliette is the one with a desk upstairs and a last name tied to the organization. She’s the one with a job to lose in a way I don’t. A job she loves and worked hard for.
I am an asset. No one is going to say shit.
“I’m asking you to stop acting like you’re hiding something.”
He’s right.
“You’re right. I am hiding something—but so is Declan Kennedy.”
I drag my eyes across the locker room to where the bastard is standing in front of his stall, pulling a practice jersey down over his pads, large frame looking deflated, despite his massive size.
Like something is weighing down on him.
“Two wrongs don’t make a right,” Storm chirps like an old lady.
I look at him sharply. “You sound like my mother.”
“So? Maybe you should listen to her.”
Goddamn, he’s annoying.
“You think this will fix it?” I ask quietly.
“I think it shows her you’re serious. And it’s a start.”
TWENTY-NINE
JULIETTE
“That prick! I’m going to gut him—who does he think he is?”
“My brother.” I sniff, voice wrecked. My nose is raw from all the blowing I’ve done, tissues piling up on the coffee table like sad little white flags. “You can’t gut him. You won’t get past the doorman.”
Blaire paces my living room like a general preparing for war. “Watch me.”
If I wasn’t so devastated, I would laugh.
