Page 99 of Hate to Love You
Even though he never asked me to fetch him a drink before, I still know what his order is.
Coffee, black with no sugar.
Bitter just like him.
It suddenly occurs to me that this is the opportunity I need, my chance to finally be able to put down another monster.
Yet I find myself hesitating.
The thrill that I normally feel before I take someone out is a high. I love the ride, but this time there is no high. Just a sinking feeling in my stomach as I order his drink.
And even as I covertly drop the Widowmaker in, using a packet of sugar as cover, the thrill still doesn’t come.
Shrugging, I pop the lid back on the warm little cardboard cup and glance around, taking a deep breath.
Time to go put down another monster.
The slow melody of the elevator music fills my ears as I step inside, the doors slowly closing behind me. I watch the light flashing as it ascends upwards, passing each floor.
I rub my sweaty palm down my new skirt, feeling my heart racing and the leather sticking against me. I glance at myself in the reflection of the door.
Roman is going to hate this.
…Which makes me happy.
If I twist it slightly you can almost see the black lace thong that I have on underneath.
I don’t know why I put it on, Roman will be dead by this evening yet I still want to piss him off. The rise I get out of him matches the thrill I get from killing a man.
And I don’t know why.
As the elevator approaches his floor, my eyes focus on the twentieth-floor button. Part of me has always wondered what Roman’s penthouse looks like above us.
The elevator dings, and the doors open. However, as I step out onto the floor, I notice that all the lights are dimmed in the office.
That’s strange…it’s only quarter to eleven?
“Roman?” I yell through, peering around the corner of the hall.
“Office.” He yells back.
Shakily, I walk forward, wobbling a little in my six-inch heels as I head toward his voice.
Jesus…I wasn’t this nervous when I killed my husband.
Roman Antonov has a dark side to him, one that was probably never balanced in the first place. I never know what move I’m going to make that will cause him to go off the rails, and I have no idea what he’s going to throw at me next.
But I like that about him.
Peering into his office, I see that his desk is still piled high with paperwork and his hair disheveled. He stands, his long legs bringing him directly in front of me as he reaches for his coffee, his fingers gently brushing against my hand, sparks ignite, and I feel the shock course through me.
My eyes watch his trail down my body to my skirt.
“Abigail,” he says, his voice deadly calm. “What the fuck is that?”
“You said it was a bonus, so….” I smirk, my throat dry. “Thank you.”
It thrills me to see the glare reflected in his deep blue eyes way more than it probably should. Something about him feels familiar, safe.