Page 158 of Hate to Love You
This time I can barely contain smirk tugging at the corners of my mouth.
Setting her jaw, Heather storms back over to my desk, and throws the bunched-up pair of bloodied tights and panties at me, hitting me in the chest.
If she were a man, she would die right here for that offense. And I’d be using her salary to buy a new rug.
However, Abigail is grinning wickedly, confirming for me that she definitely is responsible for the carving of Heather’s chest. And what’s more, her motivation for doing so is incredibly clear: Me.
I’d have pity for Heather if I didn’t know for a fact that she enjoyed making Abby jealous.
But also, as a mafia don, I don’t allow myself to feel pity, just on general principle. It’s dangerous, distracting, and detrimental to my business that needs to run free of emotion.
So, instead of yanking my pistol from my desk and shooting Heather in the back, I simply let Cal escort her out of my office. Once the elevator doors have closed, I stand and walk around the desk to my jealous secretary.
“You,” I snap, making her jump, and causing her grin to evaporate instantly. “Let’s go.”
“What? Where?” Abby scoffs, incredulously, but refusing to move. “And what if I don’t want to go anywhere with you?”
I snort, rubbing my jaw.
Oh, this girl…
I grab her chair, and violently spin it to face me. Bending down, I place my hands on either side of her, pinning her in her seat.
“Perhaps you misheard me. You can get the fuck up on your own,” I growl, leaning in close enough to hear her draw a shuddering breath. “Or I can drag you out of that chair by your fucking hair. Makes no difference to me Abigail.”
“Abby,” she hisses. “I’ve already told you I prefer that.”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass what you prefer,” I seethe. “You just sliced up one of my employees, which is going to cost me something to bury.”
“You don’t actually know if I—”
With a knee jerk reaction I snap, grabbing the back of her hair, and twisting it in my hand, making her yelp as I pull her up on her feet.
“Fuck!” She winces, glaring up at me.
But then she smiles. And not in the normal way that people smile. No. This is dark and dangerous.
“Oh my God, do you think I actually want you?” She chuckles viciously. “Or do you think that I’m afraid of you? Because I assure you, Mr. Antonov, I’m really fucking not.”
Her words sting, landing like a dagger in my chest.
No, I felt her glare last night. And I felt her kiss.
No one can make Abby do anything she doesn’t actually want to do. And she wouldn’t have done what she just did to Heather if she didn’t want me the same way I want her.
I release her, but before she has a chance to escape, I press my shoulder into her stomach, and toss her over my shoulder.
“Roman!” She gasps, as I head for the door.
“Yes, Foxy?” I ask, slapping her ass hard while swiping her undergarments off the desk and shoving them into the top drawer.
“Put me down!” She squirms, beating her fists against my back.
But I hold her fast.
“No, I don’t think so,” I say, carrying her past the empty desks toward the elevator. “But you go right ahead and wear yourself out, Abigail.”
“You’re going to show everyone my ass and I’m not wearing any—”