“Luck.” He snorted. “If there is such a thing. It was my bullet you caught. Seems it passed through Bogdani and lodged into you. Quite ineffectually.” Asshole. “I got distracted. One of my men needed help. So, lucky you. You lived.”
“I don’t feel so lucky.” My stomach churned and bubbled.
“You did land right back into my lap. So maybe not so lucky, after all.”
Something scraped along the table in a circular motion. Liquid sloshed while ice clinked against glass.
“The job’s not finished while you breathe. So,petite rescapée.” Little survivor. He gulped down whatever drink he had. “There’s not really a choice.”
My breath hitched. “This is cruel.”
I hated his mocking snort. My lower jaw quivered.
“I was in and out of it for almost three weeks. You could have ended it at any time. But you had to wait until I was awake? Until I knew death was coming for me? That’s messed up.”
“I need to know what you know.”
His voice was so steady, as if he hadn’t just torn me apart and stabbed me with the pieces. How could he act so calm when the status quo I’d been riding since waking up and realizing how empty of meaning my world was was cracking and crumbling?
“I don’t fucking know anything!”
Grabbing one end of the table with my hands, I upended the damn thing. My side throbbed, but I was too angry to care. The table crashed against the floor with a loud bang. Glass smashed. My chest heaved. My arms shook.
“Get that through your thick goddamn skull!”
His chair creaked, then scraped along the floor. Then he was there, his body against mine. His fingers dug into the sides of my chin and squeezed.
“You know my name. Tell me how?”
I grabbed his wrist and tried to wrench myself free, using my other hand to shove against his hard chest.
“I didn’t know your damn name until your sister told me yesterday,” I screamed. “Ask the doctor. I have amnesia.”
“So she says.”
“You don’t trust your own doctor?”
His breath was hot and silky against my cheek, fanning so close I imagined his lips only inches away. Were his breaths trembling? He angled his body closer, all warm and firm. His hold on my face loosened, enough for his index finger to trace over my lips. They parted for him like fools as his finger slipped inside and pried my bottom lip down. Rough, callused, and yet uncharacteristically tender. My tongue swept out of its own volition and gave it a lick.
“What is it about you?” he whispered.
Across the room, the door slammed open.
Adrien released me suddenly, shoving me back into my seat and sending flames of agony rippling up my side, and yet I didn’t go far with the way I clung to his wrist with one hand and his shirt with the other.
“Patron, on a entendu—” Boss, we heard—
I ducked my head at the sound of the new male voice and let go of my captor completely.
“Get. Out.” His tone was dark and foreboding.
Footsteps retreated, then the door clinked shut. Meanwhile, I tried to catch my breath as my stomach roiled with embarrassment. I fidgeted with the velvet lining of the armrests. The table grated along the tile as my jailer righted it backinto place. Glass clinked as he probably picked up the pieces of whatever glass had fallen and broken. Paper crinkled and crackled next. Finally, quiet settled.
“Now, we’re going to start this over. Starting with your name.”
I kept my head down and ground my teeth. When was he going to get it?
“Your name, or do you still not remember even that much?”
