Greetings again! I am wrapping up the online launch party at "Zipper Fall" and it was a lot of fun chatting with people from all over!
GrimmIchi fans, I have a discount to pass on to you: 25% off on all my titles, and all mystery/suspense titles at Dreamspinner Press. The code is "PavelleBlog" and the offer is good until Monday at midnight. Enjoy!
And now, let's forge ahead to Chapter 2
It became apparent to me almost immediately – after I've wanked off to my illicit video of Grimmjow Jeagerjacques for the third or fourth time, anyway – that Cupid had played a rather vicious prank on me. I was infatuated, smitten, madly in love. As far as I could recall I've never fallen so fast for anyone, nor so hard. This time I didn't even know of the guy's redeeming qualities. I knew his name, home address, house keeping habits, occupation, and I had it on a good authority that he was an utter asshole.
Still…
Here it was, the short video so hot, it threatened to turn my cellphone into a puddle of molten plastic and twisted wires. The video I took of Grimmjow Jeagerjacques in the middle of the night and without his knowledge. I leaned back in my office chair and closed my eyes. The sensuous brushes of his expensive suits against my back were embedded in my neurophysiological pathways. The intoxicating scent of his light, elegant cologne mingling with the musky scent of sex lingered in the back of my mind. The body endowed with the strength and poise of Discobolos – a Grecian ideal, lean-limbed and muscled, his eyes sultry in repose. And, oh god, that voice. I no longer needed to play the recording – my sick and twisted mind rewound it to the very beginning and my memory recreated every hiss and gasp, every pant – and the sound of him finishing. That particular roar was so expressive and intimate and primal, I wanted to hear it over and over; hell, I even considered making it my ringtone.
Renji was happy that "Jeager-asshole" was gone, but I couldn't think of Grimmjow Jeagerjacques by that nickname anymore. He was too beautiful, too enticing, too tempting. And, let's face the fact that Renji was hardly a stellar employee: working with him must have been one hell of a ride. Come to thing of it, putting those two in the same room was asking for nothing short of a massive personality clash.
My eyes half shut and cheeks flushed, I visualized the man get out of his bed and walk around, just the way I've seen him from my hiding-place in his closet: stark naked and gorgeous, illuminated by the flashing neon signs and sodium street lamps from the levels beneath. I imagined him walk off to the kitchen, reaching for a glass, slipping it under the ice dispenser and getting some ice water in the middle of the night.
Ice.
Frozen assets.
I imagined him open the freezer and reach into the left corner in the back. Nothing was there. Over five grand has disappeared overnight.
Confusion.
Anger.
How would he look when he was angry, I wondered? Suddenly I didn't want him to feel angry, violated, sad…
Guilt.
Shit. I've never felt guilty before – that's why I always selected my donors with such careful precision. Except this one wasn't selected so carefully. With this one I've broken a slew of my own rules: the guy was personally known by a friend, the house wasn't cased well enough, I returned the second time, I entered even though he turned out to be home, I allowed it to become personal. Guilt was a new and unwelcome feeling, my own bad consequence.
"Mr. Kurosaki." Kuchiki Byakuya stuck his head through the door.
My eyes popped open and I sat up ramrod straight.
"Yes, boss."
"Are you feeling well, ?" Kuchiki's pale face frowned the slightest bit, showing a hint of concern. His gorgeous, raven hair was bound in a professional ponytail today, a sure sign that a client meeting was somewhere on his schedule.
"W…why do you think I'm not well, boss?"
He drifted in like silent fog. "Your face is red. Your expression – are you in pain? I have that new client for you for tomorrow, but I can reassign it to Yamada, if you're coming down with something. It wouldn't do to infect the whole office."
I stood. "Thank you. Just something I ate. I'll be right back." I headed for the bathroom. The hallway carpet would soon show a well-worn path between my office door and the facilities if something didn't happen soon. A quick peek under the doors of the other stalls confirmed that I was alone. I locked myself in the handicapped stall and dropped my trousers and boxer shorts, the cold, tiled wall soothing against my back. I pulled the cell phone out of my pocket. And there he was; the sound turned so low, only I could hear.
My right hand mirrored his, stroke for stroke.
I won't go into further details here; suffice it to say that I was back in my office within ten minutes; my face cooling off and my hair slicked back to disguise the moisture that clung to it.
I felt somewhat more functional as I reached for the thick manila folder left by Byakuya Kuchiki. A new account, hmm. And I was to meet their vice president tomorrow. From the look of it, the Black, White and Blue LLC was a fairly small but successful personal investment outfit and further growth and expansion was part of their strategic plan – thus their need for an advertising campaign. The names of the partners were a bit unusual, but hey – whatever. As long as they liked my presentation. I was to meet Mr. Shiffer tomorrow. A thorough analysis of Black, White, and Blue's current customer base revealed new, logical places for strategic expansion. It didn't take much to alter a boiler-plate proposal to fit my new client's needs and email it to Kuchiki for approval. After lunch, his approval was granted and I quickly morphed the document into a PowerPoint presentation.
Then I kicked back, feet on my desk and laptop on my thighs. To all outside observers, I was busy at work. If only they knew. As it happened, I had more than one project to plan.
XDXDXD
The awful, gnawing feeling of guilt wouldn't let go of me no matter what I tried. I worked hard. I focused. I put my cell phone away, having copied the illicit, hot video onto a separate flash drive. I used the image of the angelic, slightly smiling face in post-coital bliss as my wallpaper.
Not safe. Definitely not safe.
Then I sat there, dressing myself down for being paranoid. What could possibly happen, right? It's just a pretty face. It's poorly illuminated, light and shadow playing with ambient light off the street, making the image appear almost monochromatic.
Oh what the fuck. May as well go full-out. I captured the end of the video sound track on my phone and played with it a little bit. Then I used my office phone to call myself.
"Gwrrraaaahrrr!"
My cell phone just had an orgasm. If lots of people called me, I'd have one, too. Hands-free.
XDXDXD
On a more serious note, I really had to return all those items I stole – having become intimate with their owner in a virtual, round-about sort of way it no longer seemed acceptable for me to keep them. Now, I was known to occasionally return an item, but knowing the guy was in town made it slightly tricksy. First I called Renji, who naturally couldn't pick up, so I left a message.
I worked for maybe ten minutes, getting really immersed in my presentation for Mr. Schiffer of Black, White and Blue, LLC, when my phone roared.
"Gwrrraaaahrrr!"
I jolted. The sound hasn't lost its original effect on me. Beating my woodie down, I picked up.
"Hey, Renji!"
"Hey, man." A pause. "Hey, you alright?"
Everyone was suddenly interested in my well-being.
"Yeah, why?"
"You sound a bit off, is all. What didya want? I'm finally catching up on all my work, now that Jaeger-asshole isn't breathing down my neck."
"Just checking up on ya. So, he's still out, is he?"
"Yep. Wanna pick up a drink after work?"
"Sure," I said, my response utterly automatic. We'd meet at the same place at the same time and have the same drinks and the same bar food…wait wait WAIT!
I couldn't get drunk if I wanted to infiltrate Grimmjow Jeagerjacques' apartment and get away with it. And I had to do it because, face it, the guy was hot and I felt like we had a connection of sorts, and I felt bad about what I'd done.
Real bad.
XDXDXD
Renji was on his fourth beer; I was nursing my second.
"Ichigo. Something isn't right with you. You're not keeping up."
"I'm fine," I lied. In reality, I was scared shitless. Suppose the gorgeous guy was there again, and suppose I didn't have it in me to leave? Suppose…
"Ichigo, you're doing it again. Helloooo!" A large hand waved before my eyes, jagged tattoos extending almost to the wrist.
I made an effort to pull myself together.
"So Renji, has it occurred to you that you and your boss are just clashing on personality? You could both be nice guys when you're apart, you know? Some people just aren't meant to work together."
"Shiiit, man. You're saying he's as cool as I am? What basis do you have for that conclusion?"
I had a basis. I just couldn't share it. My mind whirled as fast as a gerbil wheel. "But you're more effective with him on vacation, right?"
"You're saying I should find another job? I love my job. It's just Jeager-asshole who's the problem, man. You don't know him. He's capricious. Violent, even. His temper is legendary, and he always has to have his way."
Oh boy.
I really didn't need to hear that.
XDXDXD
I wore my black stuff and my repairman's hat with a wig and said hi to Jigura, who sat behind the desk, reading a book.
"Long time no see, Bill!"
"Yeah...whatcha readin'?"
"The Old Man and the Sea," he gruffed, embarrassed. "Some people live the life, the rest of us grunts just get to fantasize about it, you know?"
"You bet," I said, nodding. I didn't know. I was living the life right now.
"Back to Jeagerjacques?"
"Yeah."
"Okay." I signed the book and took the elevator to the fifth floor. I made it to the flat roof, enjoying the comfortable shadows of other, taller buildings surrounding me while I navigated among the chimneys. My harness and rope were still in the vent where I left them. I put Jeagerjacques' silver dish and cash from his freezer into the cargo pockets of my fatigues and descended down the wall. There was that old thrill of hanging over a precipice. The wind whipping up the wall caressed my exposed neck as my feet moved down the flowers and vines of the façade. Fifth floor, fourth floor, dark. Third floor, also dark. The temperature was still pleasantly high – I had seen the window open from underneath earlier that evening - my chances of getting in were very good.
I landed on the parapet with a light thud. The wind ripped around me again and I unclipped the line off my harness, bent over in a protective crouch. I needed to get in fast, before the weather took me along for a very short ride.
I pushed the half-open casement windows in and slid to the ground, crouching. The bed was unoccupied. I listened carefully; no signs of life. Like a cat, I stretched my limbs, progressing through the dark apartment. First, the silver candy dish. I pulled it out of my pocket, the sound of Velcro ripping through the silent evening. Damn…too loud. I pattered over to the dining room table. The table was empty. The boxes were gone from the floor. Order ruled once again. My eyes have adjusted already; I saw a glint reflect off the turquoise eyes of the little ivory panther.
Damn. Now he would notice.
No help for it, though.
Gently, silently the antique piece of silverwork descended onto the gleaming wood next to the panther when I heard the unmistakable sound of a semiautomatic pistol, its slide moving back, loading a round into the chamber.
"Stay where you are, punk." The silky, deep voice rumbled right behind me and I stilled in mid-motion, suppressing a quiver of excitement.
He was here.
XDXDXD
"What the fuck are you doing here." The voice was rough suddenly, and as soon as I deposited the silver candy dish next to the panther, a large hand spun me around.
He reached to the wall, the gun still trained on me through the stark shadows cast by the walls and furniture. A light came on. He wore jeans and a button-down shirt and his feet were bare. As he moved back toward me I haven't heard a single footstep; he moved like a predatory cat.
His left fist landed a heavy blow on my cheek, the right still swallowing his gun; I flew into the table behind me.
"I asked you a question."
"Just putting some stuff back," I said, nonchalant, suppressing pain, not letting my hands fly to my face.
"You do that often?"
I couldn't keep my eyes off him; my gaze slid up I up and down his intimidating form. He exuded confidence. My presence wasn't a surprise to him.
"How did you know?"
"Shaddap. I'm asking the questions."
"For now," I quipped, right before the gun lashed forward, making rude and unwanted contact with my jaw.
I came to tied to a dining-room chair. My head felt a bit fuzzy and my jaw hurt and my other cheek hurt and the rope was digging into my wrists and ankles so, naturally, they hurt too. The object of my desire stood across the room from me, leaning against the doorway in a casual contraposto, his gun now stuck in his waistband.
"So, talk."
Now, I might have had the hots for this guy in the worst way possible, but I also have my pride and I wasn't going to let him onto that. First, he might beat me up rather badly; second, if he swung my way, I didn't want to look like I was begging for his divine attention. I straightened as much as my restraints allowed, flashing him not an admiring glance but a defiant scowl.
"What do ya wanna know, Jeager-asshole?"
He straightened some. "Only my employees call me that, punk."
"Your employees are right regarding your temperament. Although, I guess I deserved it this time."
He lifted his gorgeous, teal-blue eyebrow. "Oh yeah?"
Now, if ever caught as a burglar, the best bet is to seem amateurish and bumbling and hope that the home owner will let you go. Just talk, talk, talk your way right out the door. Somehow I didn't think Jeargerjacques would have been impressed by a lot of jaw-flapping, though, so I returned his penetrating gaze with all I had.
"I broke my own rules on this job. I bungled it, and it made me feel bad, and I figured I'd return the stuff I took. I am…sorry." My voice grew quiet, and he remained silent, and there was just the hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen nearby. I felt his eyes look me up and down with unveiled curiosity.
"I've never met a real burglar before." I felt him take in my soft climbing shoes and the black cargo pants, long-sleeve shirt and leather gloves, all back. I saw his hand reach for my head and tried to dodge it, forgetting that I was tied to one of his dining room chairs. I felt my hair spill down my neck as he plucked my black, microfiber scull cap.
"Hey! I need that!" The words flew out of my mouth unbidden. With my hair so orange and wild, anyone would recognize me. Without my scull cap, I was as good as arrested.
"So that's what you really look like," he growled. He took three steps back and fished his cellphone out of his pocket.
"Say 'cheese'!"
And dammit if I didn't grin my best, bruised-and-battered smile as he took my picture.
Fuck.
"I found this in your pocket," he said, picking up a plastic bag full of cash.
"Yeah. You have to find a better place to hide that. At least get a fake dinner box or something."
"Shaddap." He pulled the money out and counted it. Not a dollar was missing.
"Any other clever security suggestion, Mr. Burglar?" He asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.
I paused, thoughtful. "Yeah, actually."
He looked at me in expectant silence.
"First talk to Mr. Jigura downstairs. He's easily distracted from screening visitors."
"I've already done that, punk. Who do ya think called me, letting me know you're finally on your way?"
Oh.
"Second, that safe of yours."
His eyes bugged out.
"Too obvious. Your taste in art is exquisite, yet you put such a piece of fake junk up there? In a prominent position? A family photo would've been better. At least that's genuine."
He took few quick steps to the wall and tugged on the frame of the painting, letting it swing open. He dialed the safe open, shielding his hand from my sight. Like I needed to know the combination, but he didn't need to know that. The heavy metal door opened and an automatic light came on inside. He peered at the contents.
"Nothing seems to be missing."
"Haven't tried it yet. Safe-cracking takes more time, y'know. Although this one looked about medium difficulty, at best. "
He spun at me, face darkened with rage.
"You impudent pup!"
His fist flew out, nailing me in the eye.
"Hey!" I yelled. "I would've returned it. I didn't have to come back, y'know. You don't have to hit a guy while he's tied to your chair, Jaeger-asshole!"
His face neared mine, his eyes fixed me with a hard, penetrating gaze. I returned his stare. His irises were impossibly blue. I can't even describe the color. I knew his hair was blue from before so that didn't bother me none, but his eyes…I felt my glare soften. The blue of his eyes was riveting; the color changeable from a deep cobalt blue to the palest sapphire, with tiny little sparks of silver in-between. I felt like I was drowning – I had to look away. My eyes fell down his straight nose, stopping at his thin, pink lips. They were pressed together in anger right now but I've seen them smile before and knew they could become generous and pliable given just the right incentive…I gulped.
"I see." His voice was a quiet husk.
Then he untied me.
"Get out and don't come back, punk. You're lucky I'm feeling too fucking depressed to do a number on yer pretty face."
I walked to the bedroom fast, giving the empty bed but a quick glance. I stuck my head out the window; the wind picked up and rain threatened.
"Mind if I use your front door?" I asked.
"Sure do. You made it down, I wanna see you make it up."
"You won't push me?"
"No, asshole," he growled, sending a jolt of heat to my groin. "I wanna see you climb."
I positioned myself on the ledge and caught the swaying rope. I clipped it to my harness like I was taught long ago and looked at the tall and gorgeous, who just stood there, watching my every move with visible fascination.
"Hey Grimmjow."
He jerked his head up, not expecting to hear his given name.
"I could offer to make amends. Buy you a drink, you know?"
He scowled. "Get outta my place."
I nodded. "Bye, then."
My rubber soles gripped the wet façade with enough friction and gloved hands felt the rope securely as I walked my way up. As I got above his window I paused, chancing a look down. There he was, leaning out and looking up, wondering what I'll do next. His eyes betrayed an excited gleam and his lips were stretched in a hint of a grin. He liked to watch me climb, I guess. Poor sod, his life was boring. All he needed was a bit of excitement. Like me.
XDXDXD
The alarm was kind of harsh the next day, blaring music right next to my ear. I slapped it and rolled out of bed. No sense delaying the inevitable. I showered and dressed in my crispest, monogrammed dress shirt, cuff links gleaming as they peeked from underneath my dark blue business suit. I decided against a red tie – the color was too loud for the way I felt after such a disaster of a night. My hands sifted through the collection of neckwear my sisters bestowed upon me over the years, finally selecting the blue one with an Escher fish pattern on it. The shade of blue reminded me of a pair of blue eyes I couldn't quite erase from my mind. He'd looked so intense – not at all mellow like after, you know…Dangerous, somehow. I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame.
"What happened to your face, Mr. Kurosaki?" Kuchiki looked me over. The bruised cheek and the black eye were on one side of my face, the scratched-and bruised gun-whip was just developing on the opposite side on my jaw.
"I fell off my bike," I said, my voice tinged with embarrassment. "I can be such a klutz!"
"You'll have to make your apologies to your client. Mr. Shiffer will be here in an hour. Are you prepared adequately?"
I nodded. "Yeah. I think we can do them a lot of good, Mr. Kuchiki. We can control the cost by targeting the campaign to their next strategic growth areas – it's just a matter of how far he'll want to take it."
Kuchiki gave me one of his calm, encouraging looks that passed for a smile.
"Very well then."
I was straightening my desk, getting the laptop ready to project on the small screen in my office and generally fussing before the new prospect arrived when I heard my cell phone have an orgasm in my pocket. I flushed at the memory of deep, blue eyes as I checked the caller ID.
"Hey Renji. I have ten minutes. What's up?" It must have been important – we called only right before lunch or end of work. Both of us had our hands full.
"That fucking asshole fired my ass, Ichi. And it's tied to you somehow."
"What?" I couldn't believe my ears.
"He came to work today, early from his vacation. He showed a picture of a guy around, asking if anyone knew him. So I said yes, and since I was the only one to recognize you, he fired me."
I felt my heart still. Never did I expect to drag Renji into my extracurricular obsession.
"Hey Ichigo. You alright, man? You looked a bit beat up in that picture."
Guilt suffused me. My best friend got fired on my account, and now he was concerned over my welfare.
"I ran into him, kind of. We exchanged unkind words…sort of. I called him what you generally call him and it came to blows, and…well…he took my picture. He said only his employees call him that and I said his employee was right about his temperament. Shit, Ren. I'm so sorry. I had no idea this would happen."
I heard heavy breathing for awhile, expecting Renji to explode. He didn't.
"Let's meet for drinks tonight. Your treat, asshole. And I'll expect you to help me update my resume."
XDXDXD
Hanatarou Yamada stuck his head into my office. "Your appointment has arrived, Mr. Kurosaki!" He flashed me a nervous smile. He was always nervous, a disaster in the making. It was a wonder he could function in his assistant position without really screwing up.
I walked to the reception area, putting on my best professional face. Kuchiki was already waiting with our guest. He turned to me.
"Mr. Shiffer of Black, White and Blue LLC couldn't make it; apparently he's ill with the flu. However, his partner cut his vacation short to step in for him." He turned to the tall, blue-haired man. "Mr. Grimmjow Jeagerjacques, please allow me to introduce our account manager, Mr. Ichigo Kurosaki. He's been instructed to take good care of you and your needs.
I shook hands with Grimmjow Jeagerjacques, my professional, restrained smile meeting his full-out grin.
"I'm sure I will find Mr. Kurosaki's service most satisfactory."
