I get to her. "I need to see Ilay. Now."
"I...I'm sorry, you can't just..."
I grab her wrist and drag her along with me. She wouldn’t let me go anyway so why not let her tag along. We move through the halls plain white walls around us while she struggles against me, but I only have one thing in mind. Get his rich ass in line.
"Let go of me! Let go!" she shrieks.
"Pipe down," I mutter, pushing the door to the office wide open and scanning for the gangster.
He's sitting there and he looks like he was deep in conversation with that guy from last time. There's a gun visible on his desk like a paperweight. The second he sees my face,his brows furrow. He stands so fast the chair rolls backwards towards the floor to ceiling windows.
"Who hit you?" His voice is sharp.
I narrow my eyes. "Don't act like you don't know." He’s in front of me now acting like he’s completely forgotten he has other tasks at hand.
"I'm not acting." His tone is more aggressive than I expect. "Just give me names. Faces. Locations. I'll take care of it."
"You mean like how you took care of it today? Sent your dogs after an old man and me?" My grip tightens on the secretary's wrist. She whimpers, starting to cry, but I don't let go.
His jaw ticks and his eyes go cold. "I didn't send anyone after you."
"Then who were those guys? Because they sure as hell weren't the same ones from before. You wanted revenge for messing up you and that corrupt pig's operation. Are you not man enough to face me?" I spit the words at him.
He stares at me, a dark look flickering behind his eyes. "I don't operate that way," he says coldly. "If I wanted to scare you, I wouldn't send strangers. I'd show up myself."
For a second, I can't tell if that's a threat or some twisted kind of honesty. The tension between us crackles.
His voice goes lower and intimate. "But I will send people now. After the bastards that laid a hand on you. And that old man." I don't know why, but I can tell he means it.
I stand there, seething with rage, my cheek still burning from the hit. He looks at me again, his eyes lingering on the bruise. "I don't hurt women. I don't beat up old men. That's not my style. But if someone's messing with what's mine..." His voice drops, to a growl. "I will find them."
I should walk away. I should tell him to go to hell, that I don't need his brand of help. But I don't. I just stand there, holding his gaze, daring him to prove he cares.
Then, like he just hadn’t made some kind of twisted promise, he says, "But, angel, why don't you let my secretary leave first?"
I glance at the girl. She looks ready to cry. Ilay gives her a nod, and she bolts out of the room.
“Yuri,” he says.
“Yes, boss.”
"Bring me a first aid kit," he says. I didn’t even realize someone else was still in the room with us. The guy who aimed a gun at me last time I was here grumbles and leaves. I take the time to observe his space. It’s clean and minimalist.
There’s a long lounge chair close to the door with a small table next to it. On the opposite wall there’s a door presumably leading to a bathroom. Yuri returns fast with supplies. I can tell he hates me, but Ilay just waves him away and gestures for me to sit.
I refuse.
He doesn't care. He forces me onto one of his guest chairs before bending down and grabbing some rubbing alcohol and cotton. He’s gently dabbing at my cheek, but I push his hand away.
His eyes darken with irritation. "Let me help you."
"I'm pissed," I say sharply. "In case that's not obvious." He says nothing, just watches me with that cold, controlled look.
"How dare that damn senator send people to beat up an old man using your name—he's just trying to earn a living. Andme?" My voice cracks, but I don't care. "I asked you to help me, Ivanovich. Begged, even. What does the pig have over you that you're willing to sink with him?"
He smirks, stepping closer with the cotton to my lips. "Well, angel, I can't tell you everything. That would mean you have to die."
I swallow hard, his face only inches from mine, his eyes lingering on my bruised cheek.
