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“Iakov Kavinski? He’s not her boyfriend.” I frown at Willow. “Shecame toyourapartment? Are you sure?”
“That’s how I knew you’d found me—because she came looking for him. I don’t know why she thought he might be in Greenleigh.”
Sothat’swhy Willow knew I was coming. Iakov had her address all this time, and when he disappeared for a couple of days while his father was trying to break every bone in his face, Zahara must have found Willow’s address and gone there to look for him.
Zachary’s little sister almost cost me Willow Lynch, and I didn’t even know she and Iakov were that close. Does Zachary know, I wonder?
“I can see why she was so desperate to find him though, my god, look at him,” Willow is saying, biting into her bottom lip as she strokes Iakov’s solemn face with a fingertip. And then she turns, sweeps me with a dirty look. “How come all your friends are hot except for you?”
Her eyes, as she insults me, move across my monitors, lines of code and live feeds. I’m suddenly reminded that she’s not supposed to be here, that I’ve just allowed her access to a room she should never gain access to. Did she question me about the Spearcrest Kings just to buy herself time in here?
I should know better than to forget what a manipulative little shit she is.
Grabbing Willow by the waistband of her skirt, I yank her back to me. A wince of pain flashes across her face when she’s forced to lean on her bad leg, but she straightens herself, facing me properly. I slide the envelope of cash into her waistband. It settles between the hollow of her hipbones, a perfect slot.
“Take your cash and get out of my sight, Lynch. I have more important things to do than swapping insults with you.”
She tugs the envelope out of her waistband, but instead of moving away, she perches herself precariously on my lap, forcing me to sit back against the leather of my chair.
“Well, well, Luca,” she says, peeking into the envelope. “I would never have expected such generosity from you.”
“It’s hardly generosity when it’s the amountyoubargained for,” I reply, tangling my fingers through the wide netting of her tights. “Spend it wisely.”
“Why be wise when I could have fun instead?”
She’s smiling mischievously, loose strands of black hair fallen over her face. For a moment, my mind slips through a crackin reality. For a moment, it feels as though this could be a completely normal scene: a man sitting in his office with his girlfriend perched on his lap.
“Fun?” I reply mildly. “Your definition of fun is questionable at best, Lynch.”
My fingers glide past the white bandage covering the place on her thigh where I hit her with my foil yesterday, and the reality sets in once more.
Nothing normal about any of this: a dangerous man in his office with a dangerous girl on his lap, enough bruises between us to cover an entire human body.
Willow’s dark eyes are locked on mine as she slides the envelope back in her waistband and grabs my shoulder with one hand to hoist herself higher on my lap, her hips settling against mine.
“I enjoy the questionable, Luca. It’s what keeps life interesting.” She tilts her head, her pouting lips shifting into a mocking smile. “Speaking of interesting… I’m looking forward to this interview of yours. I bet your journalist friend is going to love hearing all about your little fencing mishap.”
Something cold and sharp bolts through me, and I tighten my jaw. Once more, I underestimated Willow. I assumed she would have immediately walked into my office when hearing Woodrow and I—it didn’t occur to me that she might have first eavesdropped on our conversation.
Itshouldhave occurred to me.
“How about you mind your own business and focus on preparing for the next hunt?” I keep my voice composed and frosty, and I keep my fingers gentle on the flesh of her thigh. I don’t want her to think she’s riled me up.
She would consider it a victory, and Willow is particularly hateful in victory.
She gives a dramatic sigh and slides off my lap. “I was just being nice, Luca. You know, doing the girlfriend thing. Trying to get to know you, take an interest in your life.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“I can see I’ve wound you up,” she says, grabbing her cup of coffee off the desk. “Would hate to get under your skin, so I’ll leave you to it.”
With a wink, she saunters toward the door. I watch her, and I can’t help the sudden feeling that Willow is a storm on the horizon, and I’m standing at the edge of a great cliff, waiting for the tempest to crash down upon me.
“Yes, I think that’s for the best. And, Lynch?”
She stops at the door and glances back, head tilted to the side in a parody of sweet innocence.
“Stay out of my affairs. I won’t warn you twice.”
