Their Will be Done - Logan Fox Page 0,56

fuck yourself, because it wasn’t a pleasure.”

His frown is back. “What?”

“The files.” I wave my hand. “The things I copied. You got it back, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but—” he begins, stepping around the desk.

“But nothing. The least you owe me is a thank you, and I’m still fucking waiting.” I grab my hips and start tapping my foot. “Well?”

“Well nothing.” He rushes forward, grabbing the side of my dress before I can move out of reach. “Did you even find his laptop?”

“Wh-what?” I splutter.

“How did this play out in your head, hmm?” He drags me with him as he heads for the door.

And then he locks it.

I go stiff a moment before the panic hits.

“Let go!” I yank at his hand, but he’s holding on so tight I’d probably tear the fabric before I could peel off his fingers.

Instead of releasing me, he slams me into the wall beside the door. Even if someone were to look through the frosted glass, they wouldn’t see either of us.

I open my mouth to scream, but he slaps a hand over my lips before I can get a sound out.

Fuck.

I try and knee him.

He kicks my legs open and wedges himself between my thighs, inadvertently hiking up my dress to a rather inappropriate height. When I go for his eyes with clawed fingers, he grabs my wrists and slams them into the wall above my head.

Fuck!

“Listen carefully, Miss Malone, because I’m only going to say this once,” he hisses in my ear. “There was nothing on that drive.”

I yell against his hand, but of course he can’t understand me. And all my protest earns me is him slamming his body against mine and driving the air out of my lungs.

I collapse against him, wheezing.

“You’re not listening.”

I try and say “I’m sorry” through his hand. Some of it must come through because he eases up ever so slightly on my wrists and pulls back so he’s not crushing me to the wall.

For some reason, my body responds with despair at the sudden loss of pressure. Like I somehow enjoyed the fact that he was suffocating me.

He puts his mouth by my ear again. “You seem to think you can just do whatever the fuck you want. Let me assure you, little girl, that’s nowhere near accurate.”

My eyes are squeezed shut, but he stays quiet for so long that I dare to open one just to peek at him.

He’s watching me like a jungle cat.

“We need that data.” He squeezes my wrists, grating the bones together. I mewl against his hand, nodding furiously to convey just how ready I am to listen and obey.

“You will go back to him tonight. Do you understand?”

Another furious volley of nods.

The fury on his face subsides a little. He studies me again, his gaze tracing every contour on my face.

“And you will bring it to us the moment you have it, not a minute later. Do you understand?”

I nod and then push a vehement, “Yes” through his fingers.

His lips quirk into a smile that’s as cold as the ruthless gleam in his eyes. “Good girl.”

It shouldn’t, but even his backhanded praise sends a sensuous ripple through me. Perhaps it’s just relief that he’s decided not to slit my throat.

I squirm a little, trying to convey to him that I would be happy to comply even more if he stopped pinning me to the wall like a maniac.

His eyes grow hooded. Slowly, he slides his fingers off my lips. They settle around my throat, which isn’t much better for my health, but at least now I can talk.

Which means I could try to persuade him that I’m on his side.

Their side.

It doesn’t have to be true. Fuck it, it definitely isn’t true. But I like to believe I’m getting better at lying. Or, at least, warping the truth to my advantage.

But first, I need to figure out why he seems dead set on the fact that I didn’t do my job.

“I did what you said.” I keep my voice soft and low, not wanting to provoke the beast that’s only now starting to retreat. “I don’t know why it didn’t—”

“Think we give a fuck about your excuses?” he rasps. My eyes fly shut as he starts squeezing my throat. “We don’t!”

“But I did everything you said.” Despite my best efforts, frustration builds as I force my voice to stay calm. “I found the laptop under his bed, and I put the drive into the—”

“I don’t want to hear it, little girl.”

Boiling