“He’s really mad,” she observed, her eyes following Mason as he was taken out the back door.
With my patience wearing thin, I reached forward, my fingers slipping into the neckline of her dress. Her breath hitched slightly as I felt for the metal of the key against her soft, warm skin. Quickly—although it happened so slowly in my mind—I pulled the key out.
Rosalie’s eyes flashed with defiance, her posture stiffening. “Fine, take your key,” she said, her tone sharp.
“I will, and you can take that attitude with you and walk to the door,” I replied.
“Didn’t I tell you to never comment on a woman’s attitude?”
“Did you? I hardly remember half the things you say to me, since you run your mouth so damn much.”
Her mouth fell slightly. Had I hit a nerve? What nerve would that be?
“You know, you’re a lot less charming when you’re angry,” she said, her voice steady, but she didn’t seem so certain of her words.
“And you’re a lot more trouble than you’re worth sometimes,” I shot back. “I have gray hair because of you.”
I watched her eyes fall slowly, analyzing everything, from the top of my head to the bottom of my shoes. She seemed offended by my words, as if they’d bypassed every wall she’d put up to keep herself from falling for me.
“Yeah, makes you look just like your papa.”
She wanted to kill me—of that, I was absolutely certain. The fire that burned deep in her eyes spoke volumes. Yet as her attention lingered, it drifted not just over my eyes, but ever so slightly to my lips too. Did she want to kill me or kiss me?
I had a feeling it wasn’t the latter.
“That’s not a compliment.”
“No? I think he’s quite handsome.”
“Rose,” I warned.
“Oh, I’m ‘Rose’ to you now?” she taunted, arching a brow with that infuriating attitude I wasn’t allowed to comment on.
“I don’t have the time nor the energy to deal with you right now.”
“And yet here we are.” Her tone softened. “You with your key, and me with my attitude.”
“Yeah,” I said, shaking my head slowly. “I don’t know what I was thinking.” I turned to Sean, who’d been silently watching. “Sean, take Rosalie home.”
He gave me a curt nod, and I turned to go deal with Mason.
I watched as Mikhail and Lev dragged Mason into a dimly lit back room, his protests growing weaker with each step. The room was almost empty, with just a single table and a few chairs, but it served its purpose. I followed behind them, my mind already turning over the possibilities of what he might tell me.
Mikhail and Lev threw Mason into a chair, standing guard on either side of him. Mason’s face was pale, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead. His eyes darted around the room.
“I’ll tell you what, Mason,” I began, my voice calm but carrying an edge, “Mikhail will put a bullet into the chamber, then I’ll count to six.”
“Why one bullet?” he asked in a panic.
“That gives you five chances to be honest with me.”
Mikhail spun the cylinder, the metallic cling bouncing off the walls. Mason swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbingnervously as Mikhail did exactly as I said and aimed his gun at Mason.
“One,” I said, looking directly into his eyes. I gave him a moment to respond, but I got nothing in return.
I gave Mikhail a look, then the sound of his trigger echoed in the silent room. Mason flinched, his eyes wide with terror, but still, he said nothing.
“Two,” I continued.
