His cocky smile dies instantly. He swallows hard and leans back in his chair. “Right,” he mutters. “Message received, asshole.”
I breathe once to steady myself. “Alexei wants confirmation on the payment plan before it becomes a problem.”
He huffs, annoyed but no longer bold enough to show it. “I said I’ll pay. Tell him he’ll have it soon.” Before I can respond, he glances toward Adriana. His expression suddenly shifts. “And who’sshesupposed to be? Is this little whore your girlfriend?”
Adriana snorts. “Fuck you.”
All the restraint I walked in with burns off in a second. I grab the owner by the front of his shirt and yank him out of his chair. It topples backward and crashes to the floor. He stumbles, wheezing, trying to claw at my hands, but I shove him hard against the wall, forearm across his throat.
Adriana sucks in a breath behind me.
The man’s face reddens as he tries to breathe, his pulse hammering under my arm.
“You don’t get to talk to her like that,” I say. “Stop being a fucking asshole. You think I’m just a messenger? I’m not killingyour useless ass right now because I’mcontrollingmyself. I could. And I wouldn’t give a fuck.”
He gags, fingers digging into my wrist.
I lean closer, lowering my voice. “You’re already on his bad side. Don’t make the mistake of getting on mine.”
He nods frantically. His eyes are wide, panicked, pleading.
“Good,” I say, finally releasing him.
He collapses forward, coughing and gripping the edge of thedesk for balance. I straighten my hoodie and step back like none of that exerted any of my strength. I feel Adriana’s stare on my back. She’s shaken but silent.
The owner wipes sweat from his forehead and nods quickly. “I’ll pay. Tomorrow morning. You can tell the Russian fuck that.”
I give a short nod, watching him until he looks away. Then I turn and walk out of the office, my pulse still thundering, hands still shaking as the door shuts behind us.
Adriana follows me into the hallway, pale in the dim blue light as she tucks her hair behind her ear. “Thank you,” she mumbles. “For...stepping in.”
I stop walking and look at her. She’s being sincere,actuallysincere, which is rare for her. But my nerves are shot, and the coke is still buzzing in my skull. Gratitude isn’t something I can hold right now. “I don’t care,” I say, sharper than I intend. We keep walking, slipping through the back corridor until we’re outside in the afternoon air. I rip off the mask and breathe deep, trying to reset myself.
I admit...there is a high that comes with these confrontations. I can’t say that I like it exactly, but I do have a physical response that would suggest that maybe I might.
We get into my Audi. Adriana sits with a huff, slamming my door.
“Chill. Don’t slam the fucking door,” I snap, and she just rolls her eyes. I pull out my phone to text Alexei before starting the engine.
Done.
He pays tomorrow.
I hit send and toss the phone onto the passenger-side dash, exhaling hard. I pull out of the alley, driving fast enough to feel the road but not fast enough to draw police attention.
Adriana watches me from the corner of her eye. “You okay?” she asks.
“Fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“I said I’m fine.”
I don’t have the bandwidth to hold anyone else’s anxiety. Not when I’m drowning in my own.
She shifts in her seat as I take the highway exit toward her hotel. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she tries again.
“Jesus. Stop asking.”