"Shall we head to my office, Mr. Petrovski?" Harold Braddock's voice snapped Jared out of his mental fog.
Jared blinked, his gaze shifting from his wife—who was furiously typing away at her desk—to Harold, now standing in front of him, grinning like a used car salesman with a 'buy one, get one free' deal.
Jared hadn't exactly come to the Clerk's office for small talk. He was here to check on his wife, who had been acting weird all morning. She'd forgotten their anniversary. Maybe she was sick, or something was bothering her, which was the only reason he'd dragged himself here in the first place.
But now, here was Harold, yapping away. Why was he talking again? Jared tuned back in, just as Harold kept smiling like they were old pals.
Nick, Jared's paralegal, picked up on his boss's blank stare and sighed. "He's asking for your firsthand account of the Norwest case," Nick explained, giving Jared a look that screamed, Please stop spacing out, I'm suffering here.
Jared, still half-distracted by Jerica's serious work face, barely acknowledged the situation. Harold was now in full babble mode, and Jared found himself wondering how his wife could look so cute when she was this focused. Cute? Focused? Really? I'm getting soft.
Meanwhile, Harold's voice droned on, oblivious to the fact that Jared had mentally checked out three minutes ago.
Jared finally turned to Harold, snapping back to the present. "My office already sent you the report, didn't they?" His polite facade started to slip, the steely smile gone.
Harold, totally undeterred, kept grinning like a politician during an election year. "Yeah, but it's so much easier to hear it straight from the source, you know? Reading through all those pages... ugh, boring, right?"
Nick, who was desperately trying to stay professional, internally screamed, Isn't that your literal job? He could feel his soul shriveling with each second this conversation dragged on.
Jared raised a brow, now sizing Harold up. He couldn't help but notice that Braddock had that perfect, Superman jawline. The kind of face that was just begging to be on a billboard for overpriced cologne.
Yep, same type as me, Jared thought. But younger. Way younger.
And then, the inevitable comparison spiraled in Jared's brain. But he's not as tall as me. Not as strong either. Jared's gaze flicked to Harold's arms. Yeah, I could take him. One punch, right to the jaw. Boom—hospital food for a week.
His hands clenched slightly as his mind wandered further. And I'm definitely taller. At least by three inches. And I've got better biceps. Plus, I'm definitely winning in the… He glanced down for a second. Yep. Winning.
For a brief, ridiculous moment, Jared seriously contemplated punching Harold in the face. Just one punch. One little punch and he'd be out of the picture for a while. Problem solved.
Then reality kicked in, and Jared realized what would actually happen. Nah. Jerica would feel guilty. She'd probably visit him in the hospital. Hell, she'd sit by his bedside, maybe even feed him soup. Nope, can't have that.
Jared unclenched his fists, pushing the urge to punch Harold aside. For now.
"Nick," Jared said, turning to his paralegal, who by now had resorted to doodling in his notepad as a coping mechanism. "Send all the documents to Mr. Braddock's desk."
There was a long pause. The unspoken 'And keep him there' floated in the air, loud and clear. Jared's cold expression returned, as icy as the Siberian wind, and with that, he walked away.
To the casual observer, it seemed like a professional interaction. But poor Nick, stuck in the middle, could feel the freezing tension that had passed between the two men. He could practically see his breath fogging up.
Nick, ever the brave soul, decided to break the icy atmosphere. "Uh… did you remind Ms. Evans about the dinner reservation tonight?"
He knew that the only thing capable of thawing the 'Siberian Beast' was Jerica. Nick didn't feel like dying of frostbite today.
Jared paused, mid-stride. He'd wanted to remind her, but Harold had thrown him off. Then again, it could be fun to surprise her. He could already picture her cute, confused face when he asked her later.
"You can call her," Nick continued. "Or should I send a text?"
Nick practically sighed in relief when he saw a flicker of warmth in Jared's expression. He was safe. For now.
"No need," Jared replied, his tone softening just a touch as he continued to walk out.
Nick followed him, feeling like he'd just dodged a bullet. Meanwhile, Harold Braddock stood there, staring after Jared's retreating back.
For the first time in a long time, someone had treated him like a complete nobody. Harold's jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists.
"F***ing bastard," he muttered under his breath, glaring at the spot where Jared had just been. "I'm gonna kill him."
Nick, saw Harold's reaction from a distance and resisted the urge to laugh. Yeah, good luck with that.
-----
Throughout the day, Jerica found herself glancing at her phone, hoping to see a missed call or a text message from Jared. Nothing. Not a single buzz. Her heart sank with each check, and before she could stop herself, she let out yet another heavy sigh.
"What's with the sigh?" came a voice that made her jump a little. Harold. Of course.
Seriously, how did he manage to pop up like that? Was he secretly a ninja? She didn't even bother answering him, instead busying herself by tidying up her desk. The clock had just hit five. The one glorious perk of her job: she could leave, no matter what, at 5 p.m. sharp.
"You heading out?" Harold asked, leaning in way too close for comfort. "Let's grab a drink, Poodles," he added, his lips practically brushing her cheek, his warm breath too familiar for her liking.
Jerica shot him a look, her lips pressed into a thin line. Poodles. Really? She hadn't heard that nickname since her teenage years.
"Move," she said, her tone flat, unamused.
Harold, as expected, didn't take the hint. Instead, he leaned in even closer, his eyes glistening with that boyish charm she once adored. "I just want to catch up! You didn't even invite me to your wedding. I should at least meet your husband. Come on, Poodles... I missed you."
Jerica felt her chest tighten. For a split second, seeing Harold's puppy-dog eyes, she remembered why she had fallen for him in the first place. Those eyes had a way of pulling at her heartstrings.
No matter what their situation was now, Harold was the man she'd loved for nearly a decade. He'd been her first everything.
Pang.
Without even looking up, Jerica tapped the edge of her phone right against the bridge of his nose. A solid, satisfying thwack.
"Ouch!" Harold yelped, stumbling back and clutching his nose.
Jerica glanced at him, her expression completely unbothered. "Now you've moved," she said dryly, stuffing her phone in her purse.
Harold groaned, still rubbing his nose, but there was a faint smile on his lips. He hadn't expected anything less from her.