Jace sat alone at the desk in silence. He could feel the weight of Clary's empty chair burning through him, weighing him down, distracting him from finishing the report he had to send to Valentine. Now and then, his fingers hovered over the keyboard before he sighed in defeat and dropped his shoulders.

Sending the report was like eating a gallon of wasabi.

He couldn't write one complete sentence without having to include the name Clary, and only God knew how many times he'd zoned out thinking about her.

The clock struck one.

Great. Two hours of staring at the computer, and all he got done was Dear Valentine.

Clary. Clary, Clary, Clary.

Since she was out of the room, he might as well let his mind wander a bit. But not too much.

"Jacie-poo!"

Jace squeezed his eyes shut and groaned inwardly. Not that name again.

He turned around to get a faceful of Kaelie's boobs. "What."

"Here are the papers Jocelyn requested for you and your coworker to scan over," she said, giving 'coworker' a nasty twist. Her eyes flickered over to Clary's empty chair and smirked smugly. "Still absent?"

"Yeah."

"Why can't everyone be as diligent as you?" She sighed, sliding onto his lap. "You're so smart, Jace."

Jace turned up the corners of his mouth. "I know."

Kaelie giggled, just as he had predicted. "Clary's so dumb. And ugly. And short. I wonder what she thought when that guy advanced on her. She was probably still a virgin." Her breath huffed into his ear. "Or should I now say, half a virgin?"

Jace froze. "What did you just say?"

Clary?

Guy?

Advancing on her?

His PA blinked at him, her eyes wide, but Jace saw the flashing alarm. It erased any doubt he had of hearing her wrong.

"What did you say," he said, his voice sounding detached and far away to his ears.

Kaelie ran a hand up his tense shoulder in an attempt to calm him. "Jace," she laughed nasally. "Why are you so worked up? I just said she was ugly."

"Get out." His mind was spinning.

"What?"

He pushed her out the door, slammed it shut, and began pacing frantically across the room. How did Kaelie know about the attempt rape on Clary? She wasn't there. She hadn't been anywhere close.

And yet he was almost positive she had something to do with it.

He jammed his fingers into his hair, pulling in frustration. Something was ringing in the back of his mind.

Clary in the alley. The man on top. Him driving her home. Her storming out. Him with Kaelie in the office. Him with Kaelie at home on the couch.

Kaelie.

"Oh, c'mon Jace." Her annoying voice whispered in the back of his head. "Quit thinking about her. She'd probably still reeling from the shock anyway. Jesus, SQ is a genius. It's time to think about us."

Reeling from the shock?

SQ?

Jace threw himself at his computer, his fingers flying. His heart thumped loudly in his chest, louder than it had the day he's seen Clary trapped in the alleyway. His palms began to sweat. His eyes glowed. The loud, incessant ringing in the room nearly drove him crazy.

And all of a sudden, there was silence. The ringing, he realized, had been his ears.

Jace's fingers clenched on the chair as he read the ad.

Need help getting rid of something you don't want?

Hate someone so badly you wish they were dead?

All that can be vanquished! Call Seelie Queen at 354-523-1082.

Seelie Queen. SQ.

His heart squeezed. Poor Clary. It was all his fault. All because of him.

Jace picked up his phone. "Get back in here, Kaelie."

He could almost imagine her falling head over heels in enthusiasm as he heard the thundering clicks in the hallway. A moment later, she burst into the room, her lips pulled back into a supposed-sexy smile.

It was the ugliest thing Jace had ever seen.

She was the ugliest thing he'd ever seen. If it had been possible, he would have jumped into the nearest time machine and gone back to the earliest days when he'd first seen her, cut out his brains, dump them into ice-cold water, and scrub them furiously with soap before sliding it back in.

"Need something?" She said in a sultry voice, and her eyes dropped briefly to his pants.

Jace jerked his chin at his screen. "Want to explain?"

Kaelie's eyes darted quickly between them, her smile faltering. She took in the ad, the bolded words, and Jace's stony expression.

"What – I don't – I have no – " She swallowed. "I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about."

His jaw clenched involuntarily. "You're fired."

"Jace!"

"Out."

"Listen, baby! You have no idea what you're saying! I don't know what –"

"GET OUT." He shot up from his chair and with three quick strides, towered over her. He was a man, a gentleman, but for the first time since middle school, he didn't care about hurting a girl.

God, she wasn't even a girl. She was a whore.

Kaelie whimpered and her eyes swelled with tears as Jace set his hands on her shoulders, his fingernails digging into her flesh, and roughly pushed her out the door.

…

"So you're back," the woman – Elisa? – smiled as she strode over to him, immediately straddling his lap on the barstool he was sitting on. Jace tipped his head back to drain his glass and tried smiling at her. The bartender immediately filled the glass to the brim again.

"Thiz shit iz gooood," he slurred to her, pushing the bottle to her lips.

She took a swig and passed it back. "Do you like what I'm wearing today?"

Both of them looked down at her barely clothed body. Jace saw, through his hazy vision, red.

And it reminded him of another red.

A wilder red, and when the wind blew through it and the sun caught on it, it shone like it had caught on fire. Beautiful curls of red.

He narrowed his eyes at the woman in front of him. She didn't have red curls. Suddenly his throat tightened, and he needed to see her.

He clumsily dug out his wallet and slapped $10 into her hand. The woman leaped off his lap, furious.

"You know I don't come this cheap!" She snapped at him, about to throw the money back.

Jace grabbed onto her hand, steading himself. "It'z to drive meh home."

…

A knock on the door made Clary jump. No one was supposed to come tonight, much less at midnight. She turned off the TV, which was playing her favorite show, Friends, and cautiously opened the door, and then flung it wide open in surprise.

"Jace!"

He didn't look like Jace at all. His golden locks, usually silky at clean, looked dull and drooping. His white tee was crumpled as if he'd worn it for days straight. He was leaning against the door frame, his head buried in his arm.

Clary's heart hammered. Why was he here? For the past few days, all she'd delivered to him were clipped, cold, business words.

"Hey," he mumbled into his arm.

"What happened to you?"
Jace stumbled into her house, nearly knocking over a pot of flowers. "Don't wanna talk 'bout it." He finally looked up, and his eyes were so bloodshot he looked like the devil.

Without speaking, he grabbed her hand and dragged her into her dark bedroom. Every inch of her body where they touched scorched her skin. Jace threw himself onto her bed and opened one eye, peering up at her. Somehow, it seemed so vulnerable.

Is this really Jace?

"Get meh sum wader pleashe?"

Clary hurried out of the room. Jace Wayland never says please.

"Thanks," he said after gulping down the whole cup. He tossed the paper cup onto the floor, then reached up, grabbed Clary around the waist and pulled her down next to him, his arms never letting go of her. Her back was pressed against his chest and he buried his face in her hair.

Jace inhaled deeply, taking her in. "Clary," he breathed.

"Yeah?" she whispered breathlessly, suddenly short on air. She didn't realize she'd missed him this much.

"Stay with me," he begged like a little boy. "I don't wanna spend another night with…them. I wanna spend tonight with you." He rubbed his nose lightly along her shoulder.

Clary swallowed hard. Why did he have to say things like that – things that made her heart beat like mad and blew her resistance to smithereens, that made her want to laugh and hug him when she was mad at him?

She flipped over so she could stare at him in the eye, but he nuzzled his face deeper into the crook of her neck. "You're drunk, Jace."

She could feel him smile. "Only a little."

Yeah, right.

She couldn't help it. She treaded her fingers through his hair, still as silky and soft as she'd remembered. "You said we were over. And we're coworkers."

Underneath the covers, he tangled his legs with hers. Clary's fingers clenched in response on his shirt. "That shtage ended a long time ago. Did ya miss meh at work? I misshed you sho much it hurt."

He really is drunk.

Clary stroked his head and he made a low sound in his throat. Kinda like a cat's purr, he thought.

Jace's breathing was getting deeper and deeper. "Don't leave me, Clary. Promise me," he murmured, hooking his ankle around hers. They were so close together. She could feel the heat lapping off of him in waves, pulling them closer and closer, like magnets.

"I won't leave you, Jace."

He didn't reply, and after a while, Clary thought he'd fallen asleep. His breathing was even and deep.

So after a long silence, she almost missed his soft words, "I'm sorry."

I'm sorry.

Clary stilled. First please, and now sorry. Jace drunk was really a sight to see. But the words were still real, weren't they?

"Jace?" she whispered. "Did you mean that?"

No reply.

…

"I'm sorry too."

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