Of Kings and Aces

31| Bruising

"I could do that with my eyes closed!" Bart said after I told him about Mr. Montevideo's demand.

"Thought exactly the same thing, but I didn't want to be obsequious. Let's have a little pride here. He did tell me not to be a half-baked, pretentious CEO." Even though that was meant to encourage me, it struck a nerve.

"Whatever. I'm just gonna tell Joe about the changes so he can work on it tomorrow."

"But you're doing this, okay? It has to be you," I made sure he understood that.

"Why?"

"Because you're more reliable. I don't want to be once again surprised come Monday morning because he's not around, and the file is encrypted."

"It won't happen again," a baritone voice chuckled from behind, but there was regret in his eyes when I turned to look at them.

"Well, I won't risk it." We stared at each other for a few seconds. It has been just a week since I last saw him, yet he looked very worn out. I studied his face and neck and smirked. "No new bruise or hickeys this week?"

Jacob pressed his lips to a thin line as his eyes narrowed, but I just laughed with Bart. I tapped his chest once before I headed back to my office.

Jacob should not handle this case, and Jaxx would also stay out of this if possible. I have yet to tell him about it, too. Maybe he can enlighten me as to the relationship between Alvaro Camacho and Beau.

My good mood was yet again truncated when my eyes landed on the man waiting inside my office, sitting daintily on one of the chairs, fiddling with his phone. His eyes quickly found mine, and it was too late to turn around.

He should not have been in my room. I only had a few people on the list who were allowed to wait inside the office; he was not one of them. I will have to remind Noelle about this.

I stopped in my tracks and clenched my jaw. His eyes were bright, but his smile faltered seeing me upset. We were reliving college days, it seemed. Only this time, it was I who was hating.

"Brigs."

"Hello, Ace. I was hoping for a warmer reception, but I suppose getting acknowledged would do," his tone was sad and quiet. He deserved that. I still haven't gotten over what he did. He was lucky I could not order him to do ten more rounds around the stadium or a hundred more push-ups just for spite.

"What can I do for you?" I massaged my temple and forehead with one hand and looked at him. He was making things awkward. Back in college, I had no choice but to see him every blessed weekend because of ROTC. And, boy, did he give me hell. This time around, though, we had a choice. He had a choice. But he still chose to see me.

"It's been a few weeks since I last saw you. Since my current assignment is in the area, I thought I'd visit a friend." His usual confidence was mellowed down. The wounded look on his face made me feel guilty.

Dammit!

"Ace, I'm sorry if I crossed that line. And this would probably make things more awkward but, fuck it, man. I do—"

"Stop. Don't," I immediately held my hand up, but he stubbornly attempted to continue.

"NO. Don't. I haven't gotten over the fact that you did that. So please, if you really want to stay friends or be civil, don't go there. Otherwise, you can step out of my office and forget we ever knew each other."

He sighed and looked down at his hands. He bit the inside of his cheek, a habit he used to do when he was nervous or wanted to say something but had to shut up. I did not want to deal with him today or maybe any other day until I've figured out how to let him understand that we were never going to be.