She wasn't sure how she managed to dodge his persistence and endless questions, but somehow, they ended up on the couch, watching TV and successfully shifting the topic to one she found far more interesting: the contract and the unsettling silence of Magnus Schulz. As for the curly-haired man, he realized there was no point in pressing her further because, as he often said, she's an impossible woman.
Returning to Aiden Black's rival, Tatum was still lost in thought, pondering what Magnus might be scheming. A silent rival was like a mom angry at you for not helping clean the house. Devastating.
Tatum sighed in defeat, as if trying to toss away the thousands of thoughts racing through her mind so she could focus on the road ahead. Over the past few days, she had been in close contact with the Doc—as she called him—her friend Louis, the IT genius. Since she owed him two favors, her friend decided to cash in on one: to drag her out of her fucking house.
Her friendship with Louis started back to their childhood, which meant he had witnessed all of Tatum's growing pains and the trials life had thrown at her. You could say he was the only one who truly knew the enigmatic Tatum Joy. Louis was like a brother to her, just as she was like a sister to him—someone who knew the innermost corners of his soul down to the tiniest detail, something that never ceased to amaze him. Tatum always seemed to know everything, reading every emotion your heart could feel. To him, she was incredible.
And she deserved to be a hell of a lawyer.
Louis had always carried a quiet wish in his heart—to see his best friend, Tatum, achieve the dream she'd clung to since childhood: to become a renowned criminal lawyer. It wasn't just ambition driving her, though she had plenty of that; it was a purpose. She wanted to honor the legacy of her father's law firm, left to her as a testament to his hard work, but more than anything, she yearned to solve the mystery of her parents' untimely deaths. That desire burned in her like a relentless flame, one Louis both admired and worried about.
His hazel-green eyes scanned her as she approached their table. Tatum was a striking figure, even in her casual attire. She wore black jeans that hugged her frame, a sleek black turtleneck beneath an oversized hoodie with a hood that almost swallowed her entirely, and her ever-reliable combat boots.
Classic Tate, Louis thought with an amused smirk, taking another sip of his chamomile tea. She never put on airs, and she certainly didn't dress up for anyone—not even herself most days.
As she reached the table, her scent—a subtle mix of something floral yet crisp—caught him off guard, pulling him momentarily out of his thoughts. Before he could greet her, she sighed loudly, slumping into the chair across from him. Her sigh wasn't just dramatic; it was practiced, the kind of sound that filled a room and demanded attention without a word. She ordered a still water.
"I didn't expect you to waste those two favors so recklessly," she said at last, her voice hoarse but laced with her usual cutting wit. Crossing her arms over her chest, she leaned back in her chair, her sharp green eyes narrowing as if she were daring him to argue.
"You caught a cold," Louis said simply, noting the rasp in her voice and the faint sniffle she tried to hide by clearing her throat.
"Keep in mind you only have one favor left," Tatum retorted, ignoring his concern entirely. Her expression didn't soften, but there was a flicker of warmth in her gaze that only someone who knew her well—like Louis—would catch.
He chuckled softly, shaking his head.
"You act like you're keeping score, but admit it—you're just mad I dragged you out of the house."
Tatum's lips twitched, the ghost of a smile threatening to appear before she suppressed it.
"Mad? No. Disappointed? Absolutely. I expected better from you, Doc," she shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
Louis laughed again, fully now, his tea forgotten. Tatum had always been a fortress of sarcasm and deflection, but he didn't mind. He'd known her too long to take it personally. Instead, he leaned forward, his smile softening as he met her gaze.
"You needed to get out," he said gently. "And you know I'm right."
For a moment, her tough exterior faltered, and she exhaled, this time without the drama. "Maybe," she admitted quietly, glancing down at her water glass.
Louis knew her well enough not to push further. Instead, he raised his mug in a silent toast, his grin returning. He knew what bothered her and he would for sure got to find every detail, because he knows very damn well that his friend couldn't wait to meet each other to spill everything out of her mind.
Tatum hesitated, her lips twitching as if debating whether to answer or brush him off with one of her usual quips. Instead, she found herself caught in a moment of rare vulnerability, thinking about how much Louis truly meant to her. If she ever had to say it out loud, she'd underline it: He's the only real friend I've ever had.
He had been there through everything. The darkest nights when her world felt unbearably cold, Louis had been her constant. He showed up when no one else did, his loyalty never leaving her. She could never forget how he cared for her, from the smallest gestures to the moments that shaped her life. And yet, she was just as fiercely there for him.
There was that time she had to drag him home from the bar after one too many reckless drinks, her scolding softened by the concern she tried to mask. Or the night he sat in her living room, a wreck after a brutal breakup, crying harder than she'd ever seen him cry before. They didn't speak much that night—she didn't need to say anything. Ever. She just let him grieve.
But what stuck with her most was the day his dog, Cooper, passed away. They had buried him together, digging the small grave in his favorite spot in the backyard. Louis had held it together surprisingly well until he saw her a few weeks later, standing there by the fresh mound of dirt. She'd brought a delicate flower crown, her way of honoring the loss. He cried all over again, and she stood there silently, letting him crumble, her hand on his shoulder.
As she looked at him now, waiting patiently for her to respond, Tatum felt a surge of gratitude so strong it made her chest ache. She wouldn't say it, of course. She'd never hear the end of it. But she smiled softly, her usual armor slipping just enough to let him see that she was grateful, that he mattered.
"It's about that boss of yours?" Louis blurted, a smirk curling his lips as he leaned back in his chair, his tone teetering on the edge of playful teasing.
Tatum rolled her eyes dramatically, her booted foot shooting out to nudge his leg—not too hard, but enough to make her point. "You're insufferable, you know that?" she muttered.
Louis chuckled, unfazed, rubbing the spot as if she'd injured him.
"I gotta say it, Tatum," he began, clearly enjoying himself. He caught the slight twitch of annoyance in her jaw and his grin only widened. "I've never seen you asking for favors for someone else."
Tatum opened her mouth to retort but snapped it shut, her expression flickering between irritation and guilt. She crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes at him. "I didn't ask for a favor for anyone," she shot back defensively.
Louis raised a brow, his smirk firmly in place. "Oh, sure. And I suppose your sudden interest in whatever mysterious tech thing I'm supposed to dig up has absolutely nothing to do with your infamously grumpy boss?" He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. "You're not subtle, Tatum."
Tatum groaned, throwing her head back dramatically.
"You're impossible."
"And you're predictable," Louis quipped, taking another sip of his tea. "But it's cute how you try to deny it."
Her glare promised retribution, but the faintest hint of a smile tugged at her lips. Louis might be a pain, but he wasn't entirely wrong.
"I am his bodyguard; I have to protect everything that's about him, you know?" Tatum said, her tone steady, but her eyes flicked away briefly as though searching for unseen eyes in the shadows. A slight tension settled in her shoulders, guarded. Was someone watching?
Louis noticed the subtle shift in her demeanor. Quietly, his own gaze scanned the room, his years of friendship with her making it second nature to check. Everything seemed fine, and his sharp observation allowed him to exhale slightly. When Tatum turned back to him, her expression unreadable, it was clear she'd picked up on his silent confirmation.
Louis had been following her situation closely—he knew about the attack at her house and the terrifying car chase. His efforts to track down the culprits had only turned up a license plate for the car from that night, but so far, nothing more. That lingering mystery frustrated him, but for now, he pushed it aside.
His eyes softened as he focused on his friend, the sharp woman sitting across from him with the weight of a thousand storms hidden behind those sharp green eyes. He couldn't help it anymore.
"You like him," Louis stated bluntly.
"I do not," Tatum snapped, her expression instantly guarded.
"You're interested in his well-being, Tatum," Louis pressed, leaning forward slightly. "That means liking someone."
"As I said, Doc," she retorted, voice steady and firm, "I am his bodyguard. I'm supposed to care about his well-being."
Louis snorted, shaking his head in frustration. "How do you fucking do it, anyway?"
Her brows furrowed. "Do what?"
"Pretend that you're okay. Pretend that nothing affects you."
"I am not pretending," she said, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. "I simply do not care."
"Bullshit." Louis's voice was sharper now, a rare crack in his usually calm tone. "Of course you're pretending, Tatum. Every single fucking day. And it breaks my heart."
Her breath caught, but she didn't let it show. Not visibly, anyway. For a second, the tension between them hung heavy, his words cutting through the walls she kept so carefully constructed. Louis didn't waver, his expression a mix of frustration and quiet pleading.
"You don't have to be like this, Tate," he added softly, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Not with me."
Her lips pressed into a thin line, and though her gaze stayed on his, she didn't say a word.
Tatum leaned back in her chair, running a hand through her hair as she began recounting the story, her voice tinged with frustration and a trace of vulnerability she rarely showed.
"You remember the day the news got deleted?" she started, her gaze shifting to some invisible point in the room. Louis nodded slightly, his sharp eyes watching her every move.
Tatum told Louis everything in one breath: how after deleting the news, Vivienne took credit for it and Aiden called her ungrateful, leading her to slam the door in frustration. A few days later, she went to Aiden's to bring him soup as an apology and because he caught a cold as well, only to find Vivienne already there. Thing that made her leave, because there is no need for two soups right? Then about the fight that he already knew about. The next day, Kyle surprised her by making coffee for her, which was a rarity because no one does her coffee, or anything at all. He also found out about the deleted news when he saw her texts with Louis. She explained everything to him, and to her surprise, Kyle sided with her, even mocking Vivienne.
Tatum sighed, feeling the weight of everything she'd been carrying. The conversation with Louis had been going on for a while, but it always seemed to lead back to the same things.
"Wait, what? Kyle knows about me?" Louis asked, his voice laced with disbelief, his eyes wide as he looked at her.
"Don't freak out. He's harmless. He thinks you're a genius," Tatum replied, rolling her eyes, a half-smile tugging at the corner of her lips as if the whole thing was absurd.
"That's because I am a genius," he added with a shrug. "But that's not the point."
Louis blinked, processing her words as his mind reeled feeling a bit overwhelmed.
"Wait... you're cooking for a man, fighting muggers, doing car chases, spilling secrets to Kyle that's another man, and you still think things are under control?!" He shook his head in disbelief, his voice heavy with concern and amusement.
Tatum gave a dry chuckle and shrugged casually.
"Pretty much."
Louis leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated.
"You're impossible, you know that?" He gave her a look that was half amusement, half exasperation.
"I've been told," Tatum said, her lips curling up into a grin. She'd heard it from a lot of people, but Louis' judgment stung a little more, probably because she knew he had a point.
There was a brief silence between them as Louis processed everything she'd said. Then, with a soft, pointed voice, he added:
"And you also like Aiden."