The Problem with Men
Lila
When she finally made it to the end of the day and could safely say goodbye to Tonya and Grant, Lila was exhausted. Her arms and legs felt heavy. She was glad it was only a short walk back to her new apartment. Moving here for a job just days before she started had been a mistake. She was tired, on edge, and apparently, trigger-happy.
Stalking down the sidewalk, her laptop bag over one shoulder, she closed her eyes for a moment to push away the memory of Chris's face when she'd put him on the ground.
It was beyond embarrassing. It was unprofessional. Dangerous! And after she'd lectured him about being professional. She couldn't believe it. But she also couldn't change it. And if she'd learned anything in her father's house, it was that it was pointless to regret or resist the things you had no control over. And the primary, unchangeable aspect of life was the past.
She couldn't go back and stop herself flipping her new boss onto the floor. She could make sure it never happened again.
A few minutes later she entered the sleek high rise where she would be living for as long as she worked for Daniels Security. The guard at the door smiled at her, already recognizing her from the weekend she'd spent moving in. And the other security guard—two, actually, one in the lobby of the building, the other in the elevator—called her by name as she passed.
She smiled wryly as she pushed the button for her floor in the elevator. Well, she could certainly be honest when she told the press, or anyone else who would listen, that Daniel's security was genuinely safety conscious.
She'd been told part of the contract was the new housing, that it was a requirement of the job. That Dane insisted any of his staff that didn't have families lived in his building because—Chris had told her when they'd met about her working for them—he didn't trust other organizations in the city.
Lila wasn't sure what kind of security Dane thought normal women needed, but she wasn't going to complain about the beautiful, modern apartment she'd been assigned.
When she reached her floor and walked the hall to unlock the door with the swipe card key that was also her staff ID card, she smiled. The wide hall led to an even wider room, with vaulted ceilings, a plush sectional couch, massive television, and several plants that looked real. She'd have to check. If they were real, she would likely kill them and they looked expensive.
The apartment wasn't large, but since it was just her and her cat Rupert, the wide living room, small kitchen and tasteful bedroom were all she needed.
Rupert was hungry and began meowing and rubbing her legs as soon as she stepped inside. Removing her heels with a sigh of relief, she padded straight to the kitchen to feed him, mentally reviewing the day and what she still needed to do before she returned to the office the next day.
She carefully avoided thinking about why she'd scared so easily, why she hadn't had time to think when Chris touched her unexpectedly. She had too many problems to solve. But after a couple of glasses of wine on the couch with the cat and her files, when she knew she had finished preparing for the day ahead, she was left in a quiet apartment, with a purring cat, and her own thoughts.
The only good thing to come out of that little hiccup was that she'd had a chance to see the softer side of Dane Daniels—his concern for her shaking had been genuine. In anyone else, she would have called it touching. But he was so . . . brisk. She wasn't sure he knew how to be sympathetic, exactly.
Then again, his presence—and his sheer size—for once hadn't made her feel less safe. It was an odd thing about Dane Daniels. Usually being around large, powerful men, made her especially conscious of her surroundings. She became extremely sensitive to unexpected noises, or the presence of people she didn't know.
Yet, when Dane was in the room, she'd relaxed—most of the time. Except when he was yelling, of course. But even then, she'd never been afraid that he would hurt her. Fire her, maybe, but not hurt her. It was odd. He was exactly the kind of man she usually avoided spending long periods of time with because it was too tiring to always be so tense. But Dane hadn't made her feel that way. She wasn't sure why.
Shaking her head, she scratched Rupert under his chin and he stretched, his claws spread as he rolled onto his side and back so she could scratch his chest too.
"I met a strange man today, Rupe," she said quietly. "He was exactly like my father in every way except one. The most important one."
The cat made a quick b-r-r-r-r-i-i-i-p? noise in his throat and she smiled. "Yes, that way. Which is good, isn't it? Mommy couldn't keep working for a man who was like her daddy." The idea of her father made her shudder, so she turned from it. But then the memories of her childhood, her teenage years, her previous relationship began to swim before her eyes and she cursed as tears welled. She was just too tired, dammit! She needed to sleep, that was all. Then she'd be able to push all this aside again.
With a sigh, and swallowing the tears that pinched her throat, she got up from the couch, swinging the cat into the cradle of her arms. "It's time for bed. Bed, and a good book, until we can sleep and not think about men anymore, okay? Men are just trouble." The cat meowed. "Yes, I know, but after that trip to the vet, you don't really count, Rupert. Sorry."
She pulled the warm body up to her face so he curled into the curve of her neck and jaw, and scratched his soft fur as she walked into the bedroom.
She just needed a good rest, she told herself as she got ready for bed. She would sleep tonight, and she'd wake up ready to face tomorrow, where she would walk into that office a completely normal woman with no trauma, and no hang ups, and she would kick some ass, take some names, and make Dane Daniels decide she was the best decision he'd ever made.
*****
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