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She surprised me, and I wasn't able to stop myself from reacting—by running away from her. The shock of feeling something other than that hopelessness inside of me sent me packing.Like the coward you are. When it came down to it, tough guy, you weren't cut out to be a soldier.And then, I walked into the bar today and spotted her. She drew me to her like a magnet. Before I realized it, I was standing behind her. I wasn’t sure what I was going to say to her—but putting forward a plan to her was not on my list.
Now, she firms her lips, then juts out her chin. "If you think I’m going to listen to you after you ran from me like I had the plague, then you are so mistaken, you—"
"You’re right in being angry with me," I murmur.
She blinks. "I am?"
She’s surprised. I don’t blame her. Hell, I surprised myself with that statement. But needs must, and all that. She’s pissed off, and if I were my natural self, she wouldn't listen to me. So, I’m going to turn on my charm and try to convince her. My charm always works, after all. I curve my lips.
She frowns. "What are you doing?"
"Trying to demonstrate that it’s a good idea for you to listen to me."
"Well, if you’re going to wear that grimace on your face—"
I straighten my mouth. "It wasn’t a grimace."
"I was on the receiving end of it, so trust me when I say, it was painful to look at."
I stiffen my spine. Fuck that pretense. It’s not me. Might as well lay it all out in black and white. "You will work for me."
"Excuse me?"
"You. Will. Work. For. Me," I growl.
She folds her arms across her chest. "And if I say no?"
The fuck?No one says no to me. Not even the team who followed me on my last mission;and look what happened to them? You saw them tortured; you saw them die. You should have died, too. Why did you escape, you—
"Mr. Warren?" She touches my shoulder. "Hey, Mr. Warren, sir?"
Did she saysir? My cock twitches. I snap out of my reverie and look down my nose at her.
"Ms. Michelle Easton. Suffers from advanced dementia, which has led to her rapid degeneration. You moved her from Gainesville, Florida to London so you could take care of her.”
The color leaches from Penny’s cheeks.
“She’s confined to a care home the last three years and—"
"Stop, why are you telling me this?" she cries.
"Because you need the money to take care of her."
She flushes. "Are you blackmailing me?"
"It was an order, actually."
"An order?" she asks slowly.
I resist the urge to bark at her to stop wasting my time when we both know it’s only a matter of time before she complies.
"You’re ordering me to work for you?"
"Yes."
"And if I don’t want to?"
"Like I said, I don’t think you have the luxury of choice."
