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“It’s fine, Lena. He’s harmless, aside from the gaping asshole he calls a mouth.”
“Real cute,” I mutter, shootingLenaa venomous look before storming past Dahlia into her place. She says something else—I’m sure biting and snippy about me—to Lena before turning to me and shutting the door behind us.
“What the fuck do you want, Deimos?”
“It can’t actually be that much of a mystery to a smart woman like yourself, can it?” I say sarcastically as she stomps past me into her living room area.
It’s no palatial penthouse, or a loft like mine. But Dahlia’s not exactly slumming it, either. Her place is a good size, tastefully decorated and cozy, with decent views out the windows. I mean, the entire place is roughly the size of my bedroom, but still.
It’s veryher.
“Well?”
She’s standing by the windows in the living room when she turns to scowl at me. “Wellwhat?”
“Where the fuck are my files, and why the fuck have you been ignoring my texts and calls?”
“Because my time ismy time, Emperor Nero,” she snaps. “And your dumb files are exactly whereyouleft them at the office.”
Again, I don’t even need the fucking files. But that isn’t remotely what this is about. It’s about her defiance. It’s about her throwing the basic premise of our new arrangement—that Iownher—back in my face. Petulantly.
“Thenget them,” I hiss.
“You could have gotten them yourself if you weren’t so busy fucking the flavor of the day over your desk!”
Her voice booms across the living room. Then it goes completely pin drop silent. I lift a curious brow, given that I haveno fucking ideawhat she’s talking about. My eyes take in the anger and some other emotion etched deeply on her face. I move toward her, and she flinches.
“Don’t you fucking touch—”
She gasps when I grab her wrists and pin them behind her against the window.
“I willtouch youhowever and whenever I fucking want—”
I blink at the sting of heat on my face, momentarily confused what just happened before it clicks.
Holy shit.
Dahlia just slapped me. Hard.
She goes pale, her breath catching audibly as I grab her loose wrist and slam it back against the glass. My teeth are bared as I loom over her, leaning down to snarl right into her face.
She shivers. “Don’t even think about—”
“Already have.”
In one swift motion, I’ve grabbed her, whirled her around, and tossed her down on the couch. I pounce on her, straddling her chest with my shins and pinning her arms above her head.
She fights and bucks, twisting and writhing as she tries to hit, kick, or bite me. But when one of my hands leaves her wrists and wraps around her throat, she goes quite still. I can feel her pulse thudding in her neck, and the green of her eyes turns to fire as she stares up at me.
Her cheeks flush. Her nipples harden to two distracting little points against her t-shirt as it stretches across the swell of her tits.
“I wouldrefrainfrom doing that again,” I murmur quietly, an edge to my voice.
“Orwhat?” Dahlia sneers, glaring at me. “Or you’ll hit me back? Is that it?” She snaps.
“I might.”
She can try to hide it all she likes, but pure desire roars like a raging forest fire in those big green eyes.
