It was a mistake to hole up in my office after Nico kicked me in the jaw and punched me across the face. I should have driven home first thing, but I wasn’t exactly walking straight. Every minute that ticks by, more and more people file into the salon, buzzing to exchange the gossip of a risk gone horribly wrong. There are reporters in my business, making it nearly impossible for my people to do their jobs.
To their credit, my stylists stonewall any questions aimed at them about the incident, and one of them comes in to check on me every twenty minutes or so.
I can’t leave because the left side of my face has started to swell. That’s all the bigots need is a picture of me looking beaten and forlorn for them to go off on the entire vampiric population. As if all vampires carry Nico’s rage.
As if we haven’t earned their disgust.
I use the time sequestered in my office to look over the contract Dana emailed over, but the numbers start to run together in my mind.
I can’t focus. I can’t think. All I can do is feel. My face hurts, even an hour after Nico’s shoe connected with my jaw. But worse than that is the ache in my heart I try never to acknowledge.
I was the only girl in both families. I was Daddy Valentino’s little princess. He would carry me on his shoulders and play hide-and-seek for as long as I wanted. The fact that my blood was used to end his life is a tragedy I still carry around my neck like a talisman of doom.
I don’t blame Nico for hating me. But I wish he would have done so in private. Now the humans are going to use this as another reason to fear or hate the vampires, as if they needed permission for such things. They want to hate. They want to feel superior. Now they have this incident which will prove to them that they were right all along to keep the vampires sequestered to the West End.
If the vampires are out of sight, then we can make them out to be whatever kind of monsters we like.
I wanted to bring vampires back into East Enders’ lives so they could see how much of the fear they had made up in their minds.
Now that’s shot.
When a knock sounds at the door, I try to keep my voice steady. “I’m not available.”
Declan’s voice nearly breaks my heart. “It’s me, Coco. Let me in.”
“Just you?”
“Just me.”
I cannot believe how steady my hand is as I unlock the door for Declan. Usually something like this would max out my nerves and set my body trembling. I’m upset, to be sure, but my body is reacting like a normal person’s.
That is my one piece of sanity I have clung to over the past few hours.
My second piece of sanity enters and quickly locks the door behind him.
Declan engulfs me in a tight hug. I can feel every ounce of his anxiety, so I hold him closer, resting my good cheek on his shoulder. “I saw the video,” he chokes out, his voice catching. “Then I sent the video to your doctor. I know that’s overstepping, but I don’t care. He said I need to take you to the emergency room to make sure there isn’t any swelling in your brain.” Then Declan starts to cry, breaking my heart just when it finally started to mend itself. “He said you would probably be unconscious when I got here. He warned me that you might not be able to walk, even if I got you to wake up. That your speech would be slurred if you were able to speak at all.”
Now I’m the one giving the comfort while my brother falls apart in my arms. “No, no. Declan, I’m totally fine. My cheek and my jaw hurt, but I think that’s par for the course when you’ve been kicked and punched in the head.”
“I couldn’t believe what I saw. Nico’s lost his mind. Orlando will handle him, that is if the sheriff and Fintan don’t deal with him first.”
“I don’t want any of that.”
“I know, Coco. You want none of this to have happened in the first place. I saw your face. You were so composed. I’ve never been more scared, proud and furious at the same time. I want to get you out of Mayfield, but I know that’s not your plan.” Declan squeezes me as if he is afraid to let go as he whispers, “I wish that was your plan.”
“Me too,” I admit, though I hate myself for the moment of raw honesty.
“Let’s get you to the emergency room. We can leave your car here for now. Lucas and I can bring it back to you later.”
“Lucas?”
“He’s got my car waiting for us. There are quite a few cameras camped out by your car.”
I cringe. “I can’t stand this whole thing.”
“You up for a quick exit?”
“All I heard was ‘exit’.”
“Don’t let go of my arm, okay? Do you have a hat to hide your face?”
“They know it’s me.”
“Sure, but they don’t need to see how swollen your cheek is, or that your eye is starting to pop out.”
I wince, wishing that I’d called in sick today. I grab a file folder and cover the left side of my face with it. “This is the best I can do.”
The second the door to my office opens, the dull roar of the salon erupts with exclamations and questions all aimed my way. Rachel and Victor do what they can to shove the reporters out of our way so we can walk.
It takes some doing, but Declan manages to elbow us a path through the salon, straight out the front door. Our footsteps speed up to a run when a car’s horn signals us over.
Declan opens the back door and drags me inside. I barely get the door shut before Lucas takes off, driving us away from my salon.