Life after him ~ sample

Chapter 3

Not editted

Two and a half years ago (June 25th, 2006)

Her hair streamed in a waterfall behind the curve of her neck, the dress that she wore showed off her curves, the aztec print body con dress captivating. Her red lips curved up, she very well knew what she was doing to some of the men in that room. Walking along the wooden floors, her high heels, which made her only slightly taller than five foot for once, banged heavily making heads turned all around.

The little minx had quickly taken control of the situation, something that the man that she was seeing hated. She was in control; she made that perfectly clear when she had walked into the room. He had to take control, there was no other way. Grace Leo was not going to be the downfall of the man, he made sure of that. He sat behind his wooden desk, in a swivel chair that she knew made him feel invincible.

Like he was a fucking god!

But the icy eyed man needed to come back on earth. He watched her, as she took in his damn Armani suit, the way that he was smirking at her, like he knew all of her secrets.

She held onto the cherry wood door, her one escape out of there. But she would not run; if not for Greg, then to wipe that damn smirk off of his face. Plastering a fake smile on her thick red lips, Grace sauntered towards him, swaying her hips in the process. She knew what she had to do.

Anything to get that asshole of a friend out of the deep shit that he put himself in.

"Hello," his deep, baritone voice reached her ears. The girl would be lying if she said that the voice didn't even effect her even a little bit. But she knew what the man was capable of, and she was not going to let him get under her skin. Flipping her golden hair behind her neck, she watched him with what seemed a curious gaze, but he and she both knew that it wasn't curiosity. It was something entirely different - it was anger, with a cautious hint mixed in. She was not going to let her guard down, the man knew that.

"Cassiel Drakemon, I presume?" she stated. She didn't want to idle around with meaningless conversations, act like they were in anyway friends. She wanted to get to business, and they both knew it. Maybe that's what intrigued the man.

The girl did not want to be here, so why was she?

"Yes, who are you, love?" he asked, as he took in the pink colors that her dress bore. He gestured for her to sit in the leather chair next to her, though all she did was give him a defiant look, and speak up again.

"I'm here on behalf of Greg Loid," she spoke, as he looked at her thoughtfully, yet with a surprised spark in his icy eyes.

Why would she be here for an asshole like that guy Loid?

"What do you want, love?" she rose her blonde eyebrow up at the way he said 'love'.

British maybe? No accent though.

"What's the price for getting my friend out of his debt?" she asked, looking the mafia leader straight in the eye. She could not deny that it was hard not to look at him and swoon. She brushed her cherry red lips together, watching as the man leaned forward, putting his suit clad arms on the wooden desk. He was thinking about what he wanted thoughtfully, staring into space while doing so.

"Have you decided?" she asked, when the man suddenly went still. His icy aquamarine eyes watched her, playfully roaming around her body. Oh, he sure had fucking decided what he wanted for payment. And he knew as much as she was going to hate it, it was the price for what that man had done to him.

"You, I want you to do something for me." And that's when Grace suddenly didn't like the charming smirk on his handsome face.

Two and a half years later, January 21st, 2009

When she had gone back to Greg, the grave look on her face had given away what the man had asked for. He had asked it of many, but Greg hadn't thought that he would ask it of her, for she was still just a child!

But what she told him after is what scared him.

"He gave you a place far away, somewhere in Ireland. I got you this, but I never want to see you again after." With one last glare from the blonde, Greg had gone, and he had never expected to see her again.

But yet here she was, standing with a peppermint mocha in hand, looking out into the snowy woods. As if Grace could sense that he was watching, she turned, raising up an eyebrow with it. Smiling, she looked away uncomfortably. Her tan sweater was folded over her crossed arms, as the big puffiness of it made her look ten times bigger than she actually was.

"I never thanked you for what happened two years ago; or should I be apologizing?" he had no idea what to say - for after that day, he left, but he had heard that Cas and Grace were just a little more that partners after that. A small smile formed on the girl's lips, and she seemed to be remembering the man that threatened to kill him.

"You were so pissed at me back then, why aren't you anymore?" he asked, while coming around the table that was planted in between him and Grace. He noticed that her hair was turning a brassy strawberry blonde color, as she shrugged and played with a piece of hair.

Frowning slightly, Grace noticed that her hair was changing colors again. Swerving around the man and into the fridge, she pulled out some items that may have seemed weird to Greg. He watched as she pulled out a lemon, honey, cinnamon, and hydrogen peroxide. After mixing everything together, Grace rose an eyebrow at him, as she noticed his odd expression.

"I'm just lightening my hair, why are you looking at me like that?" she asked, while climbing up the steps to get to her bathroom. After putting the 'dye' in for an hour, and showering, she sighed as she looked at her now dried hair. It was back to it's off whitish golden hue.

A knock ran through her door, while the girl sat awkwardly playing with her hair. She made a noise in the back of her throat, and the person on the other side of the door took that as an invitation in.

Grace looked up, seeing the dark haired man had entered her room. Dempsey walked in, as she ran her fingers through her silky hair once more. He seemed so calm. So laid back with his jeans and sweatshirt. But something told Grace that he was anything but calm. Finally he spoke, saying, "You changed your hair?" she vaguely nodded, if the man wasn't looking in that moment, he probably would have missed it.

"Bleached it a little, it was turning orange!" Grace complained, while holding a grin on her lips. He simply rose an eyebrow at her. Grace could imagine what he was thinking in that moment, as she hugged her puffy pink sweatshirt closer to her tiny frame. God this place is cold, she thought, as another gust of cool air descended on her. She smelled her vanilla lotion lingering around her, along with the masculine scent that surrounded her friend. Looking in the mirror, she noticed the faint signs of acne scars, after all, she wasn't perfect.

"Uh, this came for you," the man said, handing her the envelope that she had yet to notice that he was carrying. In fine print, she read her name on the front. Opening it, she pulled out a tiny yellow piece of paper, like the one that someone had given her the previous year.

Grandpa?

Unfolding the paper, she held onto it delicately, as if at any moment it could vanish into thin air.

Dear Grace,

I do not want to know what is going on, why you have suddenly gone MIA on everyone. I know where you are, for how else would you be reading this? The letter that you told me to get to him is with him now. Gracie, as I have said before, you were never conventional. You somehow manage to attract trouble where ever you go. Be safe,

Love, Gramps

The old man still had it in him. He had helped her more than he probably realized, and for that she was glad. Cas would hopefully understand now why she had left, the note had explained more than what her grandfather had said if they would look in between the lines.