The King - S.R. Jones Page 0,55
this. If she thinks I’m paying her now, she’s dead wrong. But she is going to tell me everything she’s found about Popov. And then she’s staying with me until it’s safe. After that? I don’t fucking know.
“You need to stay with me for a couple of days at my house,” I tell her, putting it straight out there.
She pales, coughs, then takes a deep breath, looks me right in the eyes and says. “No.”
“Sorry?” I ask.
“No. I can’t. No. Absolutely not. That’s totally inappropriate.”
“It’s not a request.”
“It’s wrong, I can’t.”
“This isn’t the nineteenth century,” I say with a smirk. “You’re not going to lose your virtue for spending a few nights at the boss’ house. I won’t touch you; don’t worry. I have a friend there already.” If I have to use Liza to get Cassie to come with me, then I will.
Her face pales more, and hurt blooms in her eyes. “You’re such a pig,” she seethes.
Vasily crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the wall, as if he’s settling in for the show.
“I might be a pig, but I’m not a liar, unlike some I might mention.”
She frowns. “I don’t know what you mean?”
“Oh? I can do it, Konstantin,” I mimic her. “I can get into his information, and he won’t know I’ve been there, Konstantin.”
If she was pale before she’s now ashen. In fact, she looks like she might pass out.
“I didn’t lie.”
“Then you overestimated yourself. Either way, this little job you did for me? You went and got busted, so unless you want to find yourself on the receiving end of the anger of a man who will leave no stone unturned in his quest to find out the truth, you’re coming with me.”
“Oh my God.” She sits down heavily. “Oh. Crap.”
“Listen to me.” I go to her and grab her chin, forcing her to look at me. “You’re in deep shit because you’ve angered two men you don’t want to upset. Now, me? I’m pissed, but Popov? He’s going to be homicidal. So you have a choice. You either come with me, don’t make a fucking moment’s fuss because I’m already right at the end of my tether with you, little miss sunshine. Or, you can go on home and wait for Popov to find you.”
I let go and step back, watching her.
“Are you still going to pay me?” she asks.
I stare at her, incredulous. “You never struck me as a gold digger, Cassie. No, I’m not paying you; you didn’t do your job.”
There’s a beat of silence, of nothingness, more than nothingness; it’s almost as if my words have sucked something out of her, a kind of anti-matter taking the very air between us.
She crumples. Right in front of me, she just caves. Her body slumps, her face collapses, and tears begin to pour from her eyes.
“What the fuck?” Vasily, the noble bastard, reaches into the pocket of his ripped jeans and takes out a monogrammed handkerchief, and doesn’t that just sum him up?
He hands it to Cassie. “It’s not that bad, surely.”
Vasily isn’t soft, but Cassie has him being all chivalrous and shit; it makes me pissed.
Why is she in such a state? I wonder if she’s in monetary trouble despite my digging showing nothing.
“I’ll pay you twenty-thousand for work done, which is more than you deserve,” I say grudgingly.
She’s sobbing now. This isn’t going how I had planned. Normally, women crying simply grates on me, but Cassie’s tears are making me distinctly uncomfortable. I need her to stop crying.
“It’s not enough,” she cries.
I take her arm, pulling her around to face me, but she smacks me away. “Don’t touch me! Don’t you fucking touch me, you bastard.”
Vasily grabs her other arm, trying to calm her down, I presume, but she whirls on him and hits him straight in the face with a folder she grabs, and then she makes a run for it. I watch in astonishment. Where does she think she’s going?
Vasily doesn’t hesitate. He grabs her and spins her around hard enough she falls over the desk, landing with a pained cry on the other side of it, her head centimeters from the window.
I don’t hesitate. I punch him on the jaw, sending him flying.
“Touch her like that again and you’re fired,” I snarl in Russian.
He stares at me, rubbing his jaw, glass-like eyes darkening with rage.
“Cassie?” I bend down to help her up. She’s got a red mark on her cheek, but she’ll be okay; physically,