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I whirl around, grab her by the throat, and pin her to the wall. Dr. Raring’s eyes bulge, and she fumbles at the hand gripping her neck.
“What are you doing?” she screeches. “Let go.”
“Silence.” I squeeze tighter, slip the phone in my pocket and wait for her to stop struggling.
Dr. Raring thrashes at my outstretched arm and kicks, but she lacks the reach and physical strength to do any damage. It’s only when she finally goes limp that I loosen my grip.
She sucks in a noisy breath. “Why?”
“Because no matter how many times I tell you to fuck off, you return like a festering case of syphilis.”
Dr. Raring has the nerve to flinch. “You’re dangerous.”
“Only to those who get on my nerves,” I say from between clenched teeth.
Her lips tremble, and her eyes shimmer with unshed tears. I can’t tell if this is part of an act to depict herself as a helpless academic or if she’s about to catch me off guard and whip out a gun.
“What do you want from me?” she asks, her voice wavering.
“Tell me why you’re here.”
She flinches. “What?”
“Don’t make me ask you twice.” I give her a little squeeze.
“Uranos sent me to keep an eye on his daughter,” she blurts.
“Why?” I ask.
“He’s worried about her falling into bad influences.”
My eyes narrow. That aspect of her story makes sense, particularly after having been the subject of Miss Belus’s venomous glare.
“And your fascination with me?” I ask.
She releases several panting breaths before answering. It almost sounds like a hysterical laugh. “Not anymore.” Her voice rises an octave. “You’re a psycho. Can’t you be like other men and say you’re not interested?”
I told her, both overtly, covertly, and through actions, yet she probably thought I was a challenge. Strangely, her words are a comfort. But that doesn’t mean I’m about to release her. Not until I’m a hundred percent sure she isn’t working for anyone else.
“You memorized enough facts about my background to parrot them back to me,” I say. “Why?”
The look she gives me is wide-eyed disbelief. “I thought you were interesting. Apparently, you’re a nutcase.”
“You will cease your attempts at flirtation. I am not and never will be interested in you, understood?”
She nods.
“Say it.”
“Bloody hell. I won’t ever look in your direction.”
“And you will not talk about me to your superiors or conspire against me.”
“You think too highly of yourself,” she chokes out.
If Crius were here, he would tell me to put a bullet through her head because a woman’s tears are designed to catch a man off guard. His voice still swirls around my memory like brine from the times he would leave mother a broken mess and then regale me with life lessons and a crocodile smile.
Every instinct tells me that Dr. Raring is being truthful—she’s a lecturer sent to watch over a powerful man’s charge. But what if there’s more to her than her attempts at skimming a few sexual perks?
