“Okay,” he answered solemnly. “I get it. I’ll do whatever you say.”
I returned my attention to the questions I’d written, and for the next hour, we went over them in detail. Emmanuel answered them all to my satisfaction except for the one that mattered most. Who could he think of that might be responsible for Ariana’s murder?
I knew from his history that he wasn’t affiliated with any gangs or criminal organizations, but I suspected on some level he was too afraid to point fingers at anyone else. Not for himself but for his family who still lived on the street.
I stuffed my paperwork back into the briefcase and stood. Another visit to his mother’s house was on the agenda even though she refused to see me the last time. “Did you have a letter for your mom?”
He blinked and shook his head. “No, not yet. I’ve been trying to write it, but…”
“The words will come,” I assured him. “Give it time.”
He jerked his chin. “Thanks, Mr. West. I appreciate it.”
I half expected the office to be burned to the ground by the time I returned, but instead, I found Gypsy at Jessica’s desk, painting her nails.
“What are you doing?” I demanded.
She snapped her bubblegum and gave me a bored expression. “Isn’t it obvious? Since I haven’t been able to get a manicure, I had no choice.”
“You’re supposed to be working.”
She shrugged. “This place is boring.”
“Welcome to having a job,” I told her. “Do I have any messages?”
She blew on her fingers. “I dunno.”
“You haven’t answered the phone?”
“What the hell am I supposed to say?” She glared. “I have no idea what I’m doing here.”
This was clearly something we needed to work on. Whenever Gypsy was out of her comfort zone, she resorted to acting like a self-indulgent brat. I needed to figure out that disconnect, but first, I had to address the issue of her punishment.
I walked around the desk and threw her nail polish into the trash, followed by the can of soda beside it.
“What are you doing?” she screeched. “I wasn’t finished.”
“In case I didn’t make it clear, this office is for work.” I grabbed a bottle of water from the mini fridge and set it on the desk in front of her.
“I don’t want to work here.” She shoved the phone away, as if that would stop it from ringing. “This is stupid. You’re defending wife beaters and murderers, and you want me to help you with that? No fucking thanks.”
My temper rarely got the best of me anymore, but in this case, I wasn’t proud to admit that it did. I didn’t even realize what I was doing when I pulled her up from the chair. She tried to fight me, but my grip on her was too strong, and my anger too raw. I forced her over the desk and held her there with one palm in the middle of her back. My other hand collided with her ass three times before I noticed her trembling arms and terrified eyes, and I froze.
Fuck.
I’d lost control, and she was scared of me. It was the last thing that I wanted. I’d promised her I wouldn’t hurt her, and in her mind, this probably crossed that line. What I was about to do next would cross the line too, but it couldn’t be avoided. Not now.
I pulled her into my lap and eased her head onto my chest, stroking her hair. “I’m sorry, pet.” My voice cracked. “I shouldn’t have done that. It was wrong, and I know it was wrong. But you’re safe now.”
She shuddered but didn’t speak. I continued to comfort her with gentle assurances and a soothing touch until her quivering disappeared and her heart rate calmed, and only then did I release her. It wasn’t anywhere close to quitting time, but there was no question I would have to take her home.
WHEN WE WALKED IN THEdoor, I tried to make a quick escape to the bedroom, but Lucian wasn’t having it.
“It’s time for dinner,” he said.
“But it’s only four.” My gaze lingered down the hall, longing to escape to the seclusion of the only privacy I had in the bedroom.
“And after your behavior today, you’ll be spending your evening thinking about it.”