Page 157 of Hate to Love You
From the moment I started at Nikotech I’ve wondered how deep Roman’s darkness could go. Wondering what would happen if he just snapped his restraints one day, and let it exist, untamed and free.
Hell, one could argue I’ve been pushing him there myself.
However, now seeing the terrifying look in his eye, aimed directly at me, I’ve suddenly changed my mind.
…And I wish I could take it back.
My mind begins racing, remembering the rumor Jenny and Alison told me about what had happened to Roman’s last assistant after she had betrayed him.
Exactly as I just have.
“Cal?” Roman finally whispers, without taking his frigid stare off me.
“Yes, Boss?”
“Escort her from the building.”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Hah!” Heather gloats triumphantly, jumping to her feet.
That’s when Cal steps forward.
…And grabs Heather’s elbow.
Chapter Twenty-Three
ROMAN
“Seriously?” Heather gawks at me. “You’re going to just send me home? After she did this to me?”
“Well, let me ask you this,” I ask, rubbing my chin, and glancing briefly over at Abigail who is trying, and failing, to contain her grin. “Do you have any proof she attacked you?”
“Of course! I…I…” She mumbles, glancing down at the blood-soaked towel in her hand. “But she…she did…”
Sighing heavily, I fold my hands together and tilt my head toward her.
“I’m going to take that as a no,” I click my tongue.
“There’s cameras!” Heather says defensively.
“Not in the bathrooms. That would be highly illegal,” I say, shaking my head. “So, since you have no proof that it was Miss Wayne here that attacked you, but you were clearly attacked, go home.”
“But, I…I know she did this!” Heather whines. “You could check her for the weapon! It was a black blade with an ivory handle.”
Guess that explains where the Antonov dagger went.
“As you well know, unlawful workplace searches aren’t something we condone here at Nikotech, Heather,” I purse my lips with a shrug. “But you are clearly in need of medical attention, and I don’t need you bleeding on my fucking rug, as it’s worth more than you make in a year. So, as I said, go the fuck home. And understand that I won’t be asking you again.”
Heather’s jaw drops.
She glares at me, then at Abby, before kicking the chair back and storming to the door.
“Oh, actually, Heather,” I call, causing her to turn around and immediately drop the scowl on her face.
“Yes?”
“You can leave the tights.”