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“My name is Callan.”
“I didn’t ask.” I tighten my fist enough for every knuckle to crack. “I suggest you take my advice before you’re spitting blood on the sidewalk.”
“If you have to ask, you’re even dumber than you look.”
“Come on, Taylor,” the moron says, grabbing her arm. “Let’s go.”
My palm shoots out and meets him in the solar plexus, forcing him to a stand-still. “Let. Her. Go.”
He’s a big enough man in his own right, but he doesn’t stand a chance. His eyes go wide when he sees the hollow determination in mine.
A smarter man would have cut his losses and run. Even now, there’s still time for that. But then this wannabe knight in shining armor decides this is his hill to die on.
“Listen, buddy—”
I turn to Taylor and sigh. “Can’t say I didn’t warn him.”
I grab him by the scruff of his shirt and lift him into the air. His feet flail about helplessly and his hands scrabble at my wrists.
“Ilarion!” Taylor screams. “Let him go!”
My eyes snap to hers. “Make it worth my while.”
She’s a quivering, anxious mess. But I see it in her eyes: she’s resigned to all this. She’s known it was coming. Maybe even from the second she stepped foot through that gate in my gardens, she knew it would end up like this.
“Half an hour,” she whispers. “We can talk for that long before I leave.”
“One hour, and I might decide not to throw him into the dumpster.”
She narrows her eyes. “Fine.”
Satisfied, I release him. He crumbles to the ground in a wheezing puddle of pathetic.
Taylor rushes over and helps him to his feet. I’m sure his ass hurts, too, but his ego took the brunt of the fall.
“Taylor,” he mumbles, “don’t go with this guy—”
“Fucking hell, is he still talking?”
She places a protective hand on his chest. That’s all it takes to tempt me to rip him away from her and make good on my earlier threat to fling him in the dumpster. Or worse.
“Ilarion and I just need to talk through a few things,” she says urgently. “I’ll be fine. Just go, okay? I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m losing patience here.”
“Callan,” Taylor says urgently. “Go.”
“No, I can’t just leave you with him—”
“You’re not my boyfriend!” she snaps. “Stop pretending that you are.”
Well, this suddenly got interesting.
Ken Doll’s face falls. Taylor’s cheeks flush red. “I…I’m sorry, but…I really need to handle this, Callan. And I can’t do that if you’re standing next to me like a guard dog.”
“An ineffective one at that,” I chime in.
