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“He was just trying to help me,” I hiss at Misha. “You didn’t have to be so damn rude.”
He ignores me and starts in on the lecture. “What the fuck were you thinking? You ditched Konstantin.”
“I was thinking I wasn’t in the mood for a babysitter today.”
“I don’t give a shit about your mood. Neither does Petyr Ivanov. I give a shit about your safety.”
“Unless Konstantin has telekinetic powers he hasn’t mentioned, he wouldn’t have been able to do anything different. He would have just been in the car with me.”
“Konstantin is trained. He knows what to do in a crisis.”
I bristle at that. “I’ve managed my fair share of crises, okay? You don’t grow up in Corden Park without learning a thing or two about dealing with chaos.”
“You’re a long fucking way from Corden Park now,kiska.”
I move away from him, unable to bear the heat from his intense silver gaze. “I don’t know what happened, okay? I had the brake pedal smashed to the floorboard, but nothing was happening.”
“I’ll get your car taken care of. For now, just get in mine.”
There’s no point arguing. It’s not like I’m in any state to walk home. It takes far too much energy to simply make it to the passenger side of Misha’s car. I slump into the seat and cross my arms defiantly.
When Misha gets in, rage is rolling off of him in waves.
“Don’t be mad at me; be mad at the salesman who sold me that piece of shit. It’s not like you need the money, but we could get a serious payout for those faulty brakes.”
“You have no clue what you’re—” He runs a hand down his face, exasperated. “This is why you need protection, Paige. You have no idea what you’re dealing with here. A new car doesn’t just have brakes that give out for no reason.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that I had a mechanic look over every inch of that car the night you bought it.”
My mouth falls open. “What? I didn’t—How?”
“I wasn’t going to let you drive around in a death trap,” he says. “It passed inspection with flying colors. Those brakes were fine a few days ago. If the brakes weren’t working today, someone went to extreme lengths to make sure of that.”
I shake my head, refusing to accept the possibility. “The car was in your garage the whole time. Who could have tampered with it?”
“Except when you’re at Orion. You park the car on the street in front of the building.”
“I did thatonce.”
He gives me a sidelong look. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you: once is all it takes. One slip-up. One mistake.”
His knuckles are white on the steering wheel. I fight the urge to reach over and soothe him. Then I notice that we’re not driving to Orion; we’re driving away from it.
“Where are we going?”
“Home.”
“Home?” I repeat, gawking at him. “What do you mean? I have meetings all day.”
“Cancel them,” he bites out. “You’re taking a day off.”
“Like hell I am! I need to be at the office today.”
In answer, he accelerates.
“Misha!” I cry. “Stop. You can’t just force me back to the house.”
