Page 152 of Damián

“What the fuck do you think you are doing?!” Rafael yells, but Oliver stays calm in his chair.

Mi cielo lifts a finger and shakes it as if he were scolding a toddler. “No, no. That’s no way to talk to your boss.”

A laugh catches in my throat, and I accidentally chuckle out loud.

My bad…

Rafael whips his head toward me, looking like he wants to skin me alive. I cough into my hand and clear my throat.

“Sorry. Lots of dust in here.”

“Oliver, tell your slut to leave the room,” Rafael snarls. “He has no business here.”

“He’s my right hand, so he stays wherever I tell him to. Now stop complaining and tell me why you’re bothering me.”

Rafael lets out a laugh. “Wow. Not even a week in that chair, and you’re already filling our ranks with faggots and whores.”

“Uff, Rafi! Just wait until you see the pastel pink caravan coming tomorrow. It’s fabulous,” Oliver says.

On any other mission, I would keep my mouth shut and stay strictly professional… but since Oliver told me the best way to keep Rafael from rising in rank is to humiliate him in front of his own men… then why not?

Let’s get the idiot angry.

I break character completely and laugh out loud. And boy does he get angry.

Rafael’s face contorts with hatred.

He points at me and screams, “Kill him.”

The henchman on the left reaches for the weapon tucked into his waistband.

Not today, pendejo.

I grab a heavy paperweight off the edge of Oliver’s desk and throw it straight at the man. The crystal crashes against his gun, pushing his hand back with enough force that it smashes into his own face, and he drops unconscious to the floor.

I can tell Oliver is shocked; he’s never seen me in action, and I wish I had time to gloat and demand my prize… but the second man is already reaching for his gun.

In the few seconds it takes him to release his weapon from its holster, I manage to reach him, grab his wrist, twist his arm outward to take his gun, and use my momentum to tackle him to the floor.

He reaches for a second gun he has on his waistband, but since I don’t want to shoot anyone in front of my Ollie, I drive my elbow straight down into the bridge of his nose, and the shock and pain cause him to pass out cold.

I stand up and nudge his shoulder with the toe of my boot. To anyone else in the room, it looks like I’m a sociopath kicking a man down, but in reality, I’m just rolling him onto his side so he doesn’t choke.

Then, I charge the gun I took from him and point the barrel directly at Rafael’s chest. The man is completely frozen in shock.

Sit down, puppy…

“You really do need better henchmen,” I say, with a huge fucking grin.

Rafael swallows, his eyes darting from the bloody bodies on the floor to the muzzle of my gun. “Who are you?”

“Oliver’s man and right hand.”

“There’s no fucking way you are an insignificant art dealer when you can do that,” Rafael breathes.

“Well, you are an insufferable psychopath and a whiny little bitch,” I add. “It is possible to be two things at once.”

But before Rafael can process the insult, a laugh echoes from the open doorway… and it is a sound that sends chills down my spine and straight to the bone.