Page 164 of A Vicious Love

Which was pathetic.

A woman drank coffee and I stopped wanting to rip the city apart.

Modern romance was alive and well in Harlan.

I opened her message thread again.

My thumb hovered.

I could stop there. That would be respectful. One words that had never once looked comfortable beside my name.

Instead, I typed:

I need to see you soon.

Then deleted it because apparently some instinct inside me understood that need was not the same as right.

I tried again.

When you are ready, I would like to speak to you properly.

I stared at it. Properly. Disgusting word. Made me sound like I owned a cardigan and believed in mutual understanding.

I sent it anyway.

Sienna read it on the feed, she lowered the coffee, looked down at her phone. My phone buzzed. Sienna.

Okay.

Another okay.

If she kept giving me those, I was going to build a religion around the word and make Harrison officiate out of spite. I read it five times. Then put the phone down.

Picked it up again.

Put it down.

Sienna stayed outside on the feed, finished the coffee, while speaking to one of the younger dancers. She looked cold. I disliked that immediately.

“Reeves.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why is she cold?”

There was a pause from the office line.

“Because she is outside, sir.”

I looked at the screen. “I did not ask for a weather report.”

“I’ll have someone bring coats.”

“No.”

The word left me too fast.

Reeves went quiet on the line, which was wise. Silence was a survival skill. More people should develop it before speaking to me.