If looks could kill, I’d be lying in a bloody pool on the morgue floor.
But I’ve looked the real devil in the face, and he doesn’t have impressive cheekbones and a sexy pair of full lips like this guy.
“If you’re here to intimidate me, it’s not going to work, Mr. Vescari. I dissect bodies for a living. For the most part, they’re dead, but sometimes if someone really pisses me off, I’m happy to do so while their blood is still pumping hot,” I say, making a point to toy with the scalpel.
Icy tension ripples between us as he stares down at me. “Is that a fact?”
I hate admitting it. But up close, this guy is something else. Narissa, my ride or die, would call him hot AF.
The kind of hot AF who knows how to put his name on your lips when his head is buried between your thighs.
A heated warmth spreads between my legs as his gaze promises damnation.
Jesus, I need to get laid.
“It’s time for you to leave. I need to get some sleep before I start back tomorrow.” I flip the scalpel in my hand with ease.
His jaw tics, and he seems unfazed by my swift movement with the blade. That, or he doesn’t think of me as a threat, which is okay by me. Being underestimated at times can be a woman’s power.
“Someone from my office will be in touch regarding picking up your friend. Word of advice, be friendly if you actually want to bury him,” I say with an insincere smile, the threat hanging in the air. I grab the end of the table, place my scalpel on it, and get him settled in the cooler, fully aware of the psychopath watchingevery step I make. I can’t help but feel a stab of empathy for him. He’s lost someone he cared about, and that hurts.Some would say it hurts so much you can feel your heart break.
My advice to him would be to stop caring.
Or at least tighten the circle of those who are worth the heartbreak.
I turn my back on him and reach for my coat hanging on the rack next to the door, praying I don’t have to use my knee and a can of pepper spray on this asshole as a form of encouragement. But when I turn back around, he hasn’t moved.
“This could end badly for you,” he warns.
Our eyes connect and lock. And I will die before I look away. “Is that a threat?”
“No, it’s a plausible probability. You swim with sharks, you’re eventually going to get bitten.”
“Nice analogy.”
“Not an analogy either. Just friendly advice.”
“We’re not friends.”
“No, we’re not.”
He stalks out of the room, but I don’t move until I hear the door close behind him.
Letting out a deep puff of breath, I walk to the light switch and flick it off. He’s gone, but it still feels like he’s watching me.
Tread carefully, Leonore.
I should pay heed to the voice in my head.
I’ve made him mad because I can’t keep my smart-ass mouth in check.
And making Silas Vescari mad can be fatal.
2
SILAS
Not once in my life have I met a woman so stubborn and defiant. Leonore Graves is troublesome, with looks sharp enough to be mistaken for a weapon. My jaw grinds as I try to figure out how I even ended up out here. No one defies me. I have a reputation enough for anyone in their right mind to know better.
