“I do!” Her voice pitches higher. “But the files in the flash drive, they were… they were corrupted. All of them. So I just threw it away.”
“Youthrew it away?”
“I know, I know, you’re not supposed to toss electronics in the regular trash, but?—”
“That’s not it.” I rise, eyes narrowed. “You should have talked to me. Tikhon could have still recovered something.”
“I’m sorry. I had no idea.” She hangs her head at my harsh tone. “I just—I guess I wanted to be done with it. All of it.”
Right.I let the tension out of my face, muscles relaxing once more.Mia’s been through enough of Brad’s craziness. It’s no wonder she wants it to be over.
I put my hand on her shoulder. She doesn’t flinch, exactly, but her eyes dart worriedly over to my hand, as if expecting it’ll turn into a slap. It makes rage boil inside me—how badly Brad damaged her. Just three months, and her old programming is back with a vengeance, making her afraid of her own shadow.
Or mine.
“Next time, talk to me.” I smooth the edges of my tone, try to sound encouraging instead of reproachful. It doesn’t come naturally to me, but Mia has a knack for making me do things I’d never have dreamed of before. Things like comforting. “We’ll find a solution together.”
“Okay,” she whispers. “Thank you. Really. For everything.”
“That’s better.”
“What?”
“You were saying sorry again. Now, you’re saying thank you.” My palm finds her heated cheek. “It suits you better.”
She swallows, hard. I can see her throat bob with the motion. “That’s not what you said before.”
“What did I say before?”
“That gratitude looks dangerous on me.”
Her pupils are blown again, black with desire. I can feel my own body stirring, reacting to her words of seduction like a plucked string.
I lean in, lips brushing hers?—
DING-DONG!
—and the doorbell rings.
“I’ll get that,” she says, her breath mingling with mine.
It takes all of my willpower to let her go. But Eli’s going to come back anytime, and there’s no telling when Nikita will wake up, either. Whatever our bodies are telling us to do, it’ll have to wait until later.
Later.I’ve never hated a word more.
“Yes?” Mia says, swinging open the door?—
“Good morning, Ms. Winters.”
—and then her face goes white.
Because, standing on the other side, is Howard fucking Lee.
18
MIA
“Good morning, Ms. Winters.”
