Crazy Thing (The Brighton Family #5)

Chapter 13

13

DARIUS

“ I s it done yet?” I rumble as a greeting when I answer my bluetooth.

“Not exactly,” my lawyer answers.

I sigh. This is not the news I was hoping to hear.

Frank’s unfavorable response prompts me to push my gas pedal closer to the floor of my car. I’m on my way to the office, and it doesn’t really matter how early it is. I’m always in a hurry.

But I’d say I’m a little more pissed off than usual. I blame it on the nonstop fantasy of Ziggy that plagued my mind all night.

Every time I closed my eyes, I’d see her. On top of me. Riding. Her perfect tits bouncing. My name spilling from her rose petal lips.

I tried to resist the urge to get off to the thought of her. For the sake of my own self-respect. But after hours of pure torture, I couldn’t help myself. I was overwhelmed by my desire for her.

So at 3:00 in the goddamned morning, I rolled out of bed, stumbled into my shower and fucked my hand—like a pathetic teenager—to the thought of a woman who’s made it clear in no uncertain terms that she hates my guts. No wonder I’m in such a shit mood today.

Frank speaks again. “I’m going to be honest. I don’t think our odds are good, unless you can find witnesses to testify in favor of the injunction. So I have to insist that you find at least three locals to testify for you, Darius.”

I let out a groan as I pass a granny who can barely see over her steering wheel, whipping my car over into the no passing lane to do so. Hell—who am I kidding? This whole town is a no passing zone.

God—I really need to move back to Manhattan or San Francisco.

I want to argue with my lawyer. I want to tell him to find another goddamn way to make this work. But Frank is a straight shooter. If he says this is what we need, he’s probably right.

“Fine,” I say reluctantly.

My eye twitches. Again. It’s been twitching ever since I woke up this morning.

Ending the call with my lawyer, I park my car in my lot and shut my eyes. I massage the one that keeps twitching, hoping to calm it down. The last thing I need is to look like some doped up junkie who can’t stop blinking in the middle of a meeting later.

Wait. I hadn’t considered it before, but is this another sign of my curse?

Of course it is. Yet another body part that’s shutting down on me. Let’s just hope my heart keeps kicking until I can solve this waterfall dispute.

When I stalk through the doorway of my office suite, I’m immediately taken aback. I’m smacked in the face by the scent of flowers and essential oils .

Stunned, I stand in the doorway, looking around. Everything feels different. Instead of the normal dark and dreary mood, the whole place is bright and clean, and instead of day-old takeout and toner, it actually smells…good.

Rather than phones and fax machines buzzing non-stop, some kind of nice instrumental music is playing softly from a speaker.

And Ziggy…

Ziggy is sitting there quietly, working at her desk.

Wow. The atmosphere is just…nice. Comfortable. Fresh.

When she notices me standing at the entrance, she slips off the phone headset. Her eyes linger on mine.

“Good morning,” she mutters warily.

And just like that, the unpleasant phone call with my lawyer is instantly forgotten.Yet again, Ziggy Beaumont has effortlessly thrown me completely off-balance.

It’s not like I forgot that I hired her. It’s just that, well, I was half-expecting her to ghost me. Or to call me up and tell me I’ve been pranked.

But nope, here she is. Pink hair braided over her shoulder. Wearing a loose shirt that looks like it was made out of old handkerchiefs. Looking like a hippie fairy angel, who stepped out of heaven and into corporate America.

Shaking my head, I do my best to mutter something that resembles good morning . Then I duck into my office and shut my door. I’m determined to not be distracted by Ziggy’s eccentric, magnetic presence. I have work to do.

Not even a full minute later, there’s a knock at my door. Then, Ziggy ambles into my office before I can even welcome her in. “You busy?”

“Oh, I um. No,” I lie. Like I don’t have fifteen calls to make and a twelve-page contract to review before I can even grab a cup of coffee this morning .

“Great,” she says, plopping down into one of the chairs and bringing her flowery scent with her.

Then setting her yellow pad in her lap, she starts running down the list of tasks that she’s already accomplished for the day. She’s ticking her fingers off one by one, until she doesn’t have any left. I check my watch, wondering what time she arrived this morning in order to have put in a day’s work already.

“I rearranged your schedule when I noticed you were double booked for lunch,” she’s telling me. “So you’ll meet with the banker today, and then Mr. Dallas tomorrow. Is there anything else you need done this morning?”

“No, I think that’s—” I stop myself when I recall the conversation I just had with Frank. “Oh, actually, there is something related to the waterfall situation you can help with,” I say, grabbing a folder from the top of my desk and handing it to her. “My lawyer needs a few locals to testify for the injunction.”

Ziggy’s jaw ticks. “I’m on it.” She stands to leave my office. But then she stops, her gaze fixed on me. “You’re looking extra grumpy today. Even for you. Are you…are you okay?”

My brows lift in surprise that she’d notice. I’m even more surprised that she’d give a fuck.

But then I shrug. “It’s just a headache.”

“You probably need to eat.” She hesitates. “Would you like some of the sugar-free seaweed oatmeal cookies I made at home? They’ll help boost your mood.”

Seaweed cookies? Before I can say anything, Ziggy drifts off and then comes back to set a container down on my desk.

What in the little-mermaid-meal-plan is that? I eyeball the cookies suspiciously, wondering how anything made out of green slime could be considered a treat.

Is she trying to kill me? Is that why she’s really here at work today? Because that would make so much sense.

“I’m not really a cookie guy,” I tell her. “Why don’t you go pick me up a bagel with cream cheese from the coffee shop down the street while you’re out gathering witnesses for the injunction hearing?”

“Aye, aye.” She holds her hand up near her forehead, giving me a little salute before floating out of the office to do as I asked.

That’s the thing with Ziggy. There’s just something about the way she carries herself. She doesn’t walk. She doesn’t run. She doesn’t skip. She floats. She glides over the air.

I stare off in a daze as she leaves.

I pick up the container of cookies she left on my desk and give them a sniff.

Huh. They actually don’t smell that bad.

Waiting another full minute to make sure she’s really gone, I sneak one cookie off the top of the pile and give it a little nibble. Not terrible. I finish that cookie and eat two more, my mind still on Ziggy.

I don’t want to get my hopes up but it seems as though the woman is actually doing a good job with this assistant gig so far. I’m pleasantly surprised, especially considering her lack of experience.

But I won’t be telling her this.Definitely not. I don’t want it getting to her head. I already have a hard enough time keeping her in line.

This woman just continues to surprise me. I try to get her off my mind so I can get some work done. Instead, I find myself wondering what she might have in store for me next.