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“Who’s your wife?” I asked, pulling out my keyboard.
“Annabella De Luca.”
I froze at the mention of the name, recognizing it instantly. It was the name of the woman who was constantly on my mind, the name of the woman who dumped me the second I stepped out of line. It’d been two days, and she never responded to my message. She didn’t deal with bullshit, which was sexy, but I wished she understood it was just a misunderstanding.
He noticed the way I flinched. “Now, you know exactly what I’m talking about.”
I pushed the keyboard back because I didn’t need it. I turned my chair forward again and faced him head on. “She’s a client. When a client asks me to do something, I do it.” Jealousy filled my veins when it was unfounded. I’d ground her into a door and gave her a kiss that left a permanent scar on my lips. It wasn’t enough to feel possessive or entitled. But that made me hate this guy anyway. Hated the fact that he wasn’t some fat, old guy. He was handsome, fit, and had a spine.
“Good. I’m your client, and I’m telling you to put her back on.”
I held his gaze and felt my heart race.
He continued to stare at me, his eyes colder than mine.
Now I knew why I didn’t recognize him. He was a client who had belonged to Hades. The only reason he’d stormed in here was because he realized I’d cut the last chain that bound him to Annabella.
“You deaf?” His tone darkened, containing a thinly veiled threat.
“She’s just gonna come back in here and ask me to take her off again.”
“Then I’ll put her back on again.”
This asshole wasn’t gonna let her go. They’d been divorced for six months, and he was still possessive over her. “That doesn’t sound like an effective use of your time.”
He cocked his head slightly. “Don’t concern yourself with my time. Just do as I say.”
I still didn’t turn to the keyboard.
His eyes narrowed. “You’ve got a little crush on my wife?”
More than a crush. I wanted to be a dick and tell him I made her pussy soak onto my jeans, that she wanted me to come inside and fuck her, but I held my ground. That would turn into a gunfight, and it would also jeopardize my relationship with Annabella. She wouldn’t respect me if I didn’t respect her privacy. “She’s not your wife.”
That was his undoing. He rose to his feet and buttoned his jacket again. “What the fuck did you say to me?”
“She’s. Not. Your. Wife.” I got to my feet too, leaving my gun in the drawer because I didn’t need it.
This man wasn’t used to being challenged; that was clear. He probably got whatever he wanted at a snap of a finger.
Well, so did I. “I’m not putting her back on the account. I have better things to do than deal with an asshole who tries to control a woman who doesn’t want him anymore. She dumped you. Get the fuck over it.”
His eyes narrowed with a spark of fire. “You’re brave.”
“Bravery implies I have something to be scared of.” I looked him up and down. “I’m not scared of you.”
He stepped closer to the desk. “Keep talking, and I’ll walk. I’ll take my money elsewhere.”
“Good. I don’t need your money, bitch.”
His face turned red at the disrespect. His eyes shifted back and forth with hostility, his mind deciding if he wanted to stab me or walk out the door. He processed his rage in silence, his nostrils flaring.
I didn’t blink.
His fingers reached for his jacket, and he unbuttoned it so it opened once again. Then he turned around and walked out. “You’ll regret this, motherfucker.”
I watched him go. “I doubt it.”
I called Annabella again.
Went to voice mail.
Her feelings toward me were very clear.
She was blowing me off.
God-fucking-dammit.
I could throw in the towel and move on. Women were never in short supply, and I had the charm and money to get anyone I wanted. A trip to the bar would end with a woman on my arm. Then in my bed.
But that wasn’t what I wanted.
I wanted Annabella.
I went to her apartment and knocked on the door, a bottle of gin tucked under my arm. I tapped my knuckles against the door and hoped she was home and not out with some other guy. She’d probably been hit on three times in the last week. There was nothing to stop her from saying yes.
No answer.
I knocked again. “Annabella.” The sound of my voice wouldn’t encourage her in the least. If anything, it probably annoyed her that I’d shown up on her doorstep after she’d made her disinterest perfectly clear.
I hoped an explanation would fix that.
To my surprise, footsteps sounded against the hardwood inside as she approached the door. After the audible sound of turning locks, the door cracked open and she showed her face. There was no beautiful smile. No joy in her eyes. She was like the Great Wall—a slab of concrete. “Can I help you?”
