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It was past six in the morning, and I was already panting, Luke squeezing my forearms mercilessly around my neck. We had been training for almost two hours while some rap playlist played on a speaker attached to the wall.
I pivot my hips to the side in an attempt to escape his guard, but he follows me. I turn my hips in the opposite direction, trying to put him in my guard, and it works. My legs prevent him from reversing positions; I grab his right arm tightly and immobilize it before going for a triangle. However, he is quicker and grabs my ankles, spinning me on the mat and passing my guard. He ends up on my back, trapping me in a rear-naked choke. I try to free myself, but with little success.
"You need to accept that you're losing and tap," he comments, laughing and squeezing my neck even tighter. I would respond if I could gather enough oxygen. I tap his thigh twice, and he lets go.
"You know I'm better with the gi. Best of three?" I kneel on the mat. He nods, his tongue licking his lips. Arrogant.
I tie my hair back again. By this point in the training, it was wet with sweat and sticking to my forehead. We stand up, facing each other. Luke has a calm look, but he's as tired as I am, as we've been training for hours. I get into a fighting stance, knees bent and hands in front, forming a solid base. I preferred passing guard rather than playing it. The problem was that Luke had a game very similar to mine, which resulted in most of our matches ending in a draw. So, I needed to take him down. He tries to grab my neck, but I dodge and hug him around the waist, trying to take him down, but he manages to grab my leg and take me down. I hit the mat hard, and he smiles triumphantly, but soon I put him inside the De-La-Riva guard and pull him into a kneebar that destabilizes him, allowing me to finish the position. He gives me two taps, ending the fight right there.
"Good one, girl." We exchange a fist bump, and he pulls me to my feet. "It's almost time." He nods towards the clock on the wall and takes a long sip of his water. My friend, like me, had an athletic body. So many years of gym and fighting were evident all over his body.
"Today's going to be a long day, especially after yesterday. I imagine the mood she must be in." I knew very well the feeling of an anxiety attack, knew very well what it's like to try to breathe and the oxygen not reaching your lungs as it should. I wipe the sweat with the sleeve of my rash guard and start stretching, focusing on my breath, an old habit of mine.
"What was that all about?"
"I don't know either; it must have been something related to work. It's not like she leads the healthiest routine in the world. After we heard the sound of the glass breaking, I got there, and she was having a crisis. She was so bad that when I took her to the car, I really thought we were going to have to take her to the hospital."
"Do you know what happened to make her like that?"
"She didn't want to talk, but at least she allowed herself to be helped."
"Well, I'm going to make something for us to eat before we go while you take a shower." He turns off the sound and leaves. The clock read 6:50.
Luke and I had the habit of training in the early hours before work. He set up the mat in his garage, which ended up being very useful after all. Michelle, whenever she could, trained with us, even though jiu-jitsu wasn't quite her style. Of the three of us, I had the highest rank, with three degrees in black belt. Luke had two degrees, and Michelle was at brown belt.
I take a quick shower, blow-dry my hair, and put on clothes. Today, I'm wearing black pants and a dark dress shirt along with a coat. With the end of the year approaching, it's starting to get very cold. I tie my hair into a high ponytail and do light makeup. Breakfast was ready, and Luke had already left the kitchen. I grab two cups from the top cabinet and spread jam on the toast he had made. I start checking the news. The incident at the hotel in New York with Dianna was no longer relevant. Instead, they kept talking about a socialite who got involved with a model 30 years younger.
Glancing over, I notice a brown jacket thrown over the arm of the sofa and a pair of glasses. Luke walks into the kitchen with a towel wrapped around his waist. As if reading my thoughts, he says:
"I see you've already noticed the new decor of my house."
"So, are you going to tell me whose brown jacket that is over there?" Judging by the size, it was a man this time. Luke is pansexual with very varied tastes; you never know who he'll show up with.
"Jake. I imagine you remember him; he was one of the cops involved in the case, one of those who were at the mansion that day. But I've known him for some time before that. We don't have anything serious, just slept together a few times."
"A few times?! In plural?! I'm surprised."
"You talk as if I sleep with a different person every night." He puts his hands on his hips as if expecting a response.
"And you don't?" I gesture with the toast.
My friend was the easiest person I knew; we met because of that. Five years ago, when we had just met, we fucked so many times that I lost count. We did everything, fulfilled each other's every fetish, and that lasted until a little over a year ago. It was just casual, so casual that we became friends. Nowadays, it's strange to think that we once did so many things that friends shouldn't do.
"It depends on the person; Jake seems like a nice guy. We get along, and even though it's casual, he doesn't treat me like a piece of meat, which is important... And our tastes match."
"I've heard this speech before. The next step is you two becoming best friends, and you making breakfast for him." I take a symbolic sip from my cup. "What I'm saying is that it wouldn't be a bad idea to get involved with someone; you yourself said he was a nice guy."
"I don't think it's the right time! Relationships require a commitment that I don't think I'm willing to fulfill. I imagine you're saying this because now that I've left the S.W.A.T., there's no longer that imminent risk of getting shot and killed at work. But I promise to think about it."
"I imagine it was the happiest day of your mother's life, being the protective type she is. As for a relationship, I think it's worth considering. Well, I suggest you put on some clothes soon if you don't want to be late."
Upon arriving at the mansion, I climb the stairs to the second floor and enter the room. The door was open, and the room was as quiet as ever. The only sound I could hear was my shoes thudding against the white floor.
"Good morning, Dianna, you didn't respond to my messages, and I got worried. So, I saw the door open. I just came to make sure everything was okay, especially after yesterday..." I quickly turn my back before allowing myself to fully process the image of the woman in lingerie in front of me. "Oh, my god, I'm sorry! I didn't think you were still wearing clothes; it wasn't my intention." I stare at the laces of my shoes, feeling my face heat up. "I... I mean..." I clear my throat, looking at the opposite side of the room, feeling awkward about the situation. "Everything's ready whenever you want to leave." I try to compose myself, leaving the room with my heart racing.
I could swear I heard a laugh before going downstairs.
"Is she ready?" Luke asks as soon as I reach him in the garage. "Are you okay? You're looking like a tomato."
"She's not ready yet." I say nothing more and receive a suspicious look.
Dianna appears in the garage a few minutes later, and we take her to the company. She was quiet, there was no sign of last night on her face, nor of the little incident in her room. I feel more at ease. She was wearing light tailored pants with a dress shirt and red heels.
"Good morning, Brett. I want the head of accounting in my office as soon as possible. The copies of the spreadsheets are already on my desk, I assume." She walks to her office, and Brett follows her, balancing a cup of coffee and a folder.
The two disappear into the presidential office, and I position myself outside. A few minutes later, Brett leaves the room and returns to his desk. He seemed sad but tried not to show it too much.
"Is everything okay?" I ask.
"Not exactly, today marks one year since my husband passed away. I'm not feeling very up to it."
"I'm sorry." I try to convey empathy in my tone.
"I have my doubts..." I hear her mutter softly, still laden with sadness, and she realizes I heard. "I mean, you don't love anyone, you don't know what the feeling is like." She adds.
I don't take her comment seriously; she was suffering. I just nod. Then, a man exits the elevator. Brett stands up from his chair, leaning his fingers on the glass top of the table, and accompanies him to the presidential office, letting him enter alone.
Dianna
"Can I know what the hell this is?!" I'm furious, and he looks confused at the sheets, but soon understanding fills his face. I point with a pen to the paper, waiting for some explanation.
"I always check the cash flow, not only of the company but of all the projects individually. I imagine there may have been a mistake." He justifies.
"A mistake that cost me 100 million. I don't know which employee did this or who is responsible. But you are the head of accounting, and your responsibility is to personally ensure that errors like this do not occur. And if you're not capable of fulfilling your obligations, let me know, and I'll find someone who is. It is known to you, I imagine, that what's in front of me is a clear example of incompetence. Now, you go there and fix the mess you made, or you can take that elevator straight to the HR floor." I see the color drain from his face.
"This is outrageous! You're completely insane! You can't treat me like this."
"You lower your tone! You know what you can't do? Cause an eight-figure loss. What you can't do is be incompetent enough to show up with such a large amount missing from the account and think I wouldn't notice." I grab a red highlighter and circle everything that was wrong in the document. "See this here? It'll cost you your job with just cause if not fixed within 5 days. I doubt you'll get another job as an accounting director in such a big company after a dismissal for just cause. You have a week to figure out where all this money went before I myself go after it. I guarantee you I'm the last person you want investigating this problem."
"I'll sue you! I didn't do anything."
"Try your luck. You fixing what you did, I assure you, won't cost me as much as it cost me. He looked at me in disbelief holding the paper sheets.
"Everything okay here?" I hear Scarlett's voice at the door.
"Yes, it is. This gentleman is leaving now." He gets up, glaring at me with hatred, but I know very well that he would do his job properly this time. "Don't forget the documents." He reluctantly takes the papers and disappears from my office.
The following hours are monotonous, despite the absurd amount of work and meetings I had to schedule for the morning to ensure I'd have the afternoon free. When I finally sit at my desk, nearing lunchtime, a tall blonde woman enters through the door. Loose hair, designer clothes, and red lipstick. She was beautiful, in that elegant and flawless way only models are. Moreover, she had a distinct perfume that I could smell just before she reached my desk. I stand up and hug her.
Katie was my cousin and the closest family member to me. She was like a sister, even though we lived in different cities.
"I missed you so much, cousin," she says excitedly, hugging me.
"Katie, I didn't expect you so soon. I thought I'd only see you tonight! You could have let me know; I could have prepared something..." I release from the hug to get a better look at her.
"Since when do I need to let you know about anything? I managed to get another week of vacation and thought about coming to keep you company. And now I'm here to drag you out of this office, so we can go to lunch and catch up."
We leave the company, with Luke and Scarlett in the front seats of the car while Katie tells me about the new silver boots she bought. My cousin is a model and a millionaire heiress. She used her own fortune to start her own clothing brand, making even more money... Just like any other McAllister would do.
Katie was cheerful, chatty, shameless, and the only person capable of making me relax. I let myself be carried away by her trivial conversations about reality shows, and it was the lightest moment I've had in months.
We choose her favorite restaurant for lunch, a health food spot specializing in salads and poke.
"I still think you should have told me you'd arrive earlier. I could have sent one of my security guards to pick you up from the airport."
"Speaking of security guards, are you trying to open a new business, a modeling agency, and not telling me? Dianna, what was that in the car? Are there more security guards working at the mansion like that brown-eyed hunk in the car?"
"My personal guards are just two, Scarlett and Luke. Michelle too, but after what happened, I preferred she spend more time with Brett."
"Brett is another one who needs a raise. She works so well, so organized. I want to steal her for myself."
"If the handsome brown-eyed bodyguard, Luke, comes along, I'll pay double the price." She laughs, and I can't help but join in.
"Only you to hit on my employee!"