Page 88 of Emerald Malice
I can smell his sweat. Can see it trickling past his temples. But he’s either much braver or much dumber than I realized—my money’s on the latter—because he turns his back on the safe route and decides to stand his ground instead.
His chin juts out stubbornly. “More so than you, apparently.”
“No, Andrey!” Natalia clings uselessly to my elbow as I take another step forward. “Stop!”
It’s something in her voice that does the trick. A tiny crack—almost unnoticeable, really—but a crack that opens just wide enough for me to glimpse inside…
And see darkness that goes a long, long way down.
I remember reeling her out of that catatonia after the shootout at the doctor’s office. It’s clear that the prospect of violence turns Natalia’s blood to ice. Even now, the bright pink embarrassment on her cheeks is completely gone, replaced by a ghostly white fear.
I hate that look on her.
I hate that I put it there.
So, as satisfying as it would be to punch a hole through this moron’s vapid face, I decide—for her sake; not his—that there are better ways to remind him what I’m capable of.
“Byron,” I growl in a low voice. I keep my eyes on Natalia. “Would you excuse us? Natalia and I have things to discuss.”
He gapes at me open-mouthed. “This… this is my office.” He turns to Natalia, clearly expecting her to back him up and kick me out.
But Natalia’s chewing her lip and avoiding his eyes. “Byron, would you mind… please?” she asks. “We won’t be long.”
He looks like he certainly does mind. But in the face of Natalia’s hushed plea and my scowl, he has no choice but to nod and retreat.
“O-okay.” He eyes me apprehensively as he backs his way to the door. “Nat, if… if you need me…”
“I’ll be fine, Byron.”
The door shuts, but the walls are still glass. He can see us.
I could use that, I think.
“What the actual fuck do you think you’re doing?!” Natalia cries. “How dare you?—”
Her angry words fade off as my eyes rove up and down her body. She’s wearing a tight black pencil skirt and a powder blue blouse that hugs every curve to perfection.
“Hey!” She snaps her fingers in my face. “I’m up here.”
“You look good, lastochka.”
That puts some color back in her cheeks. But there’s still a muscle twitching in her jaw that says, Beware. Unfortunately for her, I have no intention of doing that.
“Don’t,” she warns. “Don’t even start.”
I look around. “He calls this an office, does he?”
Natalia glances back over her shoulder. Byron has slunk off into the far corner of the hallway, but I can still spy him, peeking around the corner like a nosy child. “You’ve got balls,” she seethes when she turns to face me again.
Smirking, I reach for her. “You would know best.”
She slaps my hand away. “Don’t! What do you think you’re doing?”
“I could ask you the same question.”
“I’m at work.”
“Certainly didn’t look like much work was getting done.”