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I nod and steady my blurry gaze on him. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”
"Um, because he fucking murdered someone, princess. And you sort of got shot once upon a time. That's a massive trigger." Magnus releases me and reaches for a washcloth, dipping it under running water and bringing it to my face. He blots at my cheeks and tries to remove the mascara streaking them black. “You’re allowed to be human and feel things.”
“That’s why you think I’m a wreck?” I take the rag and wipe my face more aggressively than he was.
“What else would it be?” He leans against the counter and watches me in the mirror.
“Coen freaked out on me earlier.” I shouldn’t tell him, but I do, because I don’t want him to assume I’m emotional about some dead guy I don’t give a shit about. That asshole deserved to die for all the chaos he was trying to cause. And if Simon hadn’t done it, I would have.
Magnus balls his hand into a fist but remains otherwise collected. “What happened?”
“He accused me of cheating.”
“With Beckett,” he adds.
“Yeah.”
Magnus shakes his head. “What a fucking idiot.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“I’m sorry, princess.” He stands and wraps his arm around my shoulder and tugs me toward him. “You didn’t deserve that.”
“Maybe I did,” I confess.
Magnus tugs his bottom lip in between his teeth and rolls it out. “Have you and Beckett…” He stops himself. “No, fuck it, I don’t give a shit if you did. It doesn’t change things between us. Right?”
I let out a big breath and turn toward him. “For the record, we haven’t. I’m not romantically interested in Simon. He’s my bodyguard, that’s it.”
A throat clears in the doorway of my bathroom.
Simon stands there, his gaze trained on me. “I was, uh…” He rubs at his neck. “Coming to check on you. But I’ll go.”
He turns to walk away and I call out to him. “Simon.”
But he doesn’t stop.
“Simon,” I say louder.
Magnus puts his hand on my shoulder. “I think you hurt his feelings, princess.”
Great, as if things weren’t rocky enough, now he’s upset with me, too.
18
DOMINIC
Icheck my watch, noting the time and wishing this meeting would end so I could get on with my fucking day.
“Analysis is inconclusive,” the man tells me.
“That’s not helpful.” I tap my finger along the mahogany desk. “And not what I paid you for.”
“My apologies, sir, I was unable—”
“To do the job you were hired to do, I understand.” I snap my fingers to signal to the guy standing guard near the entrance to this room. I point to the guy in front of me. “Have him dealt with.”
The first man widens his eyes and lurches forward. “Sir, I can run it again.”
