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“A what?” I ask blankly.
“A hex,” Anderson repeats. “So, you know how I’m certain you did some things you swear you knew nothing about? Well, it happens that Anderson put a spell on you, and it makes you do his dirty jobs, like when he made you set Bones up and also sent you to assassinate the Mayor in his hospital room. You don’t remember all of those things because you did them under the influence of a powerful spell. Seer and I went to see a shaman, and she can only help if you go to her.”
He looked so serious that I couldn’t help an amused chuckle. “Are you serious?” The solemn expression on his face was enough response. I blink at him in disbelief. “My God, you’re serious! You don’t expect me to believe that load of crap, do you?”
“Seeing as your life is at stake, yes, I do,” Pocus replies in a firm tone. “And you should, too.”
“What do you care about my life, anyway?” I snap angrily. “What exactly do you want from me? What’s your deal with Anderson Grey, and what the hell does it have to do with me? Maybe if you explained your actions to me, it’d finally make sense to me!”
By the time I’m done with my rant, I’m breathing hard, and feel like I’ve used up ten years’ worth of energy. My vision swims before my eyes, and I suddenly feel lightheaded. I ignore the sick feeling and keep my death glare on his face. I hate the fact that he maintains a cool, unaffected expression when it feels like my blood is boiling hotter by the second. I’m not one to easily get worked up, but it seems like I discover a new side to myself every time I’m with him. He infuriates me in ways that even I don’t fully comprehend.
“Forgive me, chérie,” Pocus finally says after a long stretch of silence. “I didn’t mean to rile you up. Your boss, Anderson Grey, is threatening to rock the foundation of everything I’ve worked hard to build over some senseless family feud. His only condition for peace is marrying my little sister, but I’ll be damned if I let that happen. I have less than three months to find a way to beat Anderson at his own game. But you seem…. Anderson has friends in high places, and I have to find some kind of leverage to fight him. That’s where you come in, ma petite. There you were, his most trusted personal assistant, deeply involved in his shady business. Then I started to follow you, and your trail led me to that hospital room where I stopped you from killing Mayor Craig. I brought you here thinking I’d extract the truth about Anderson from you.
“Imagine my surprise when you claimed to know nothing about the things you did. I could sense that you were telling the truth, but at the same time, I couldn’t believe you because I had seen you with my own eyes on more than one occasion. And then I find out that Anderson is controlling you with sorcery, and you, ma chérie, are just a pawn in his sick game. Maybe you can work with us to nab that bastard and put him away for good. But first, you need to come with me to Mama’s.”
“You must really be crazy if you think I’ll swallow the bull crap you just spat,” I say with a dry snort. “You paint Mr. Anderson as the devil when you’re the one keeping a defenseless woman in your home against her will. At least Mr. Anderson is an honest businessman; what about you, mister? Who are you, really?” I pretend to think about that for a second before opening my eyes wide with a mock gasp. “Oh, I know! You are a lying, two-faced psychopath. Sorcery? Spells? You’ve got to be kidding me.”
He suddenly wraps his large palm around my wrist and jerks me forward until I’m only inches from his perfectly chiseled face. I grind down hard on my teeth, trying not to get distracted by how dazzling his eyes really are up close or the tingles shooting up my arm from where his hand grips mine. His lips curved into a small, provocative smile that didn’t reflect any humor. My heart trips in response to the warning in the endless depths of his eyes.
“You’re damn stubborn, aren’t you?” he mutters; his deep, velvety voice caresses my skin. “While it’s cute to watch and everything, you don’t want to get on my nerves, chérie.”
I glare harder at him, but his steely grip only hardens, even more, doubling the electric tingles running along my skin.
“What if I do?” I ask through gritted teeth. “I don’t know your game, but don’t you dare mess with me.”
My heart seems to be beating too hard and fast as I continue to hold his stern gaze. Maybe it’s because I feel so enraged and helpless at the same time.
And I’m fucking attracted to the bastard!
There, I admitted it to myself, but that fact only serves to increase my misery. His gaze suddenly falters with an indescribable emotion…surprise? As if he could magically read my thoughts. I didn’t need to worry about the momentary lapse for too long, though, because as he pulled away from me, his eyes were back to being the deep pool of cool indifference that he always presents to the world.
He lets go of my hand and gracefully rises to his feet in one swift, effortless movement. “You’re coming with me to Mama’s tomorrow.”
His tone held a finality that broached no argument. He was a man used to having his way. I bet his cronies around here just bowed their heads to his commands and generally fed his ego that’s already the size of New York. If he thinks I’m going to let him boss me around, then he’s in for a big surprise.
“I won’t go anywhere with you,” I say coldly. “And I’ll be darned if you make me.”
His smile was that of unshaken assurance. “Of course, you will, chérie,” he says in a mild tone that only serves to grate on my heightened nerves. “Even if I have to knock you out. Again.”
And with that, he strides to the door in his usual long confident strides. I let out a frustrated shriek and throw a pillow after him. The pillow hits the back of his head and drops to the ground. But even then, he doesn’t stop or look backward. I lay back in bed and swipe angrily at the tears running down my cheeks.
Why the fuck am I even crying?
CHAPTERTWELVE
Pocus
Itug uneasily at the bandana on my neck. I feel choked. My chest is clogged with so much anger and frustration that I can barely breathe. I brace my palms on the smooth wooden counter in front of me and let out a ragged breath.
Buffy, can you pour me a glass of scotch, please?” I say to the bright-eyed young man at the bar. “You know what? Make it something stronger. Double shot.”
“On it, Prez!” Buffy says with an enthusiastic nod and turns around to attend to my order.
Her blazing golden eyes flash in my head, and I let out another frustrated sigh. I’ve never met a woman as stubborn as Abigail Miller – and so fucking sexy. No woman has ever gotten on my nerves as she does. It’s like she’s deliberately provoking the devil in me – like she wants me to flare or something.
“Here you go, Prez,” Buffy says, sliding a scotch glass over to me.
“Thanks, Buff,” I mutter, raising the glass to my lips. I take a small sip, rolling the harsh liquid around my tongue before swallowing. I close my eyes against the stinging burn in my throat and let out a breathy sigh.
