Page 10 of Breaking Point (IceHawks #1)
Bella
LAYLA
just one Google search
BELLA
absolutely not. Half the crap posted is fake
LAYLA
and you would know that how?
BELLA
I’d rather meet him and make my judgment then
LAYLA
fine
but don’t say I didn’t warn you
BELLA
it can’t be that bad
LAYLA
oh I never said it was bad
BELLA
then why the warning?
LAYLA
because Google should be your best friend right now
L ayla thought I was foolish not to google Grayson Crawford before becoming his assistant, and as I use the code Lucy texted me to enter his house, I’m beginning to think that perhaps she was right.
Beer cans, vodka bottles, red solo cups, clothing… You name it, it’s covering the house I called beautiful just a short four days earlier.
Perhaps this is why the assistant salary is so high.
A giggle fills the hall, trailed closely by the pitter-patter of feet and whispers. Following the source of the sounds, I step into the living room and discover two women standing in their underwear with their backs turned to me.
“God, he’s even sexier in person,” one says, awe coating her raspy voice.
One clicks her tongue. “I wanted to see if the rumors were true.”
The blonde who spoke first scoffs. “If he pulled his head out of a liquor bottle we could have.”
The brunette beside her whacks her shoulder. “Cut him some slack! You know exactly why he’s drinking.”
I should move, make a sound, perhaps kick one of the many red solo cups, but I’m far too curious. My mom used to call me Big Ears when I was little because I loved eavesdropping on other people’s conversations. It’s not one of the best personality traits I have.
“It’s been over a year, Chelsea. He needs to get over it.”
Chelsea, the brunette, gasps. “You did not just say that!”
Well, at least one seems to possess a hint of empathy.
As they bicker, I decide I’ve had enough. I have work to do, and I don’t care if he wants to sleep with these women or not, I just quite frankly don’t want their boobs in my face while I’m cleaning up their mess from last night.
As I take a step closer, I see what has their heads bent together. The blonde holds her phone between the pair, swiping through images they’ve taken of whom I presume is Grayson, unconscious and naked .
All my patience flies out the door.
Before they realize I’m behind them, I snatch the phone out of their hands.
Grayson didn’t have his agent send me a fifty-page document of a non-disclosure agreement for fun. The man clearly appreciates his privacy, and even if he didn’t, it’s wrong to take such vulnerable photos of someone without their consent.
“ Hey !” the blonde screams.
Holding the phone out of reach I let the anger simmering in my veins show in my gaze. “I suggest you find your clothes and walk out that door before I call the police.”
“For what?” the blonde growls, pushing her breasts up as she folds her arms beneath them.
I narrow my eyes. She can’t be serious…
Cocking her head to the side, she lifts them slightly higher.
Oh, she’s serious right now.
“Your fake implants might work on men but I’m unfortunately not a lesbian and don’t possess a dick,” I deadpan, choosing to turn to the one with a sliver of empathy. “Get your clothes and leave.”
“Come on, Sarah.” Chelsea wraps her hand around the blonde’s arm whose jaw is practically unhinged in shock.
Chelsea is trying to pull her friend toward the bedrooms when she snaps out of her stupor. “I want my phone back!”
I give her my sweetest smile. “You’ll have it back if I find you haven’t already sent the images.”
The blonde’s eyes narrow into thin slits as her friend all but drags her away.
I don’t waste a second. The moment they round the corner and make their way upstairs, I’m deleting every image she took along with erasing them from the recently deleted folder. The first app I check is her messages, only to be horrified to find she’s in a group chat named Puck Bunny Galore .
It seems this isn’t her first rodeo.
There are dozens of images of chiseled men, passed out in bed naked, and she’s sent them in the chat…along with a review.
Bile rises up my throat. That is wrong on so many levels .
Quickly texting myself from the phone and then deleting the thread, I do so to have her number in case I need to file a police report. I’m just glad I caught them before she sent the images to anyone.
By the time they’ve made their way back downstairs, Sarah is red in the face with fury and Chelsea…Chelsea just looks embarrassed.
Sarah marches up to me and holds out her hand. “My phone.”
I plop it into her awaiting palm, crossing my arms over my chest as I wait for her to leave.
She doesn’t.
“Seriously?” I drawl. “Am I going to have to kick you out now too? Aren’t you embarrassed enough?”
Crimson blooms along her cheeks before she sends a scathing glare my way that would kill me if it could before she turns and leaves by slamming the door.
My shoulders droop the second they’re gone.
Is this part of my job? I’m going to come in every morning having to kick out his earlier night’s conquests and clean up their escapades?
Turning, I face the open living room and kitchen. It’s trashed; there is no other word to describe the disgusting state of the house.
I let myself feel annoyed, irritated, and downright angry at the world for where I’m at in my life to be in this situation before I roll back my shoulders, remind myself how much I’m getting paid, and get to work.
But not before texting Layla a meme of bunnies with pucks in their mouth.
The NDA said nothing about memes.
I t just hits two o’clock when a door opens and closes upstairs.
I’ve thrown out the bottles of liquor, vacuumed, mopped, and reorganized his living room to what I originally saw in my interview. My back is aching just as much as my mind because the entire four hours I’ve been here, I’ve been an anxious mess thinking about meeting Grayson.
And no, not for the reasons one might think.
All my mind can play on a loop is the following interaction.
Hey, I’m Bella, your new assistant. I saw your bare ass in a photo, along with a flash of your penis.
I had to delete over twenty-seven photos from a psychotic puck bunny’s phone.
She may or may not come back to press charges on me or rip out my hair.
By the way, it’s nice to meet you. I look forward to working with you.
No matter which way I put it, this conversation is going to be awkward.
When the heavy footsteps begin to make their way down the stairs, I’m bustling with nerves, truly buzzing. I can’t stop pacing until forcing myself to stay still isn’t an issue any longer, not when I’m stunned speechless as Grayson Crawford rounds the corner…in nothing but a towel.