I grab his chair and wheel it over, gently guiding him into it. He sits heavily, shuddering.
“Should I call the police?” I ask.
He looks at me sharply.
“Okay, no police,” I say.
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly.
“You have nothing to apologize for.”
He laughs shakily, scratching his fingernails against the desk. I walk over broken glass and look down at the street. Rafe and the other man are walking back toward the building, Rafe barking something into his phone. He looks like a stranger, his eyes blazing, his huge body tight with muscle and rage.
“What the hell happened?” I ask, turning back to Adrian.
He makes apfftnoise.
“Adrian?” I say.
“It’s… a lot,” he says. “To explain. It’s complicated.”
“That guy jumped out of the window. He was pointing a gun at you!”
“Take the rest of the day off,” Adrian says evenly. “You don’t need to worr?—”
“Adrian, with all due respect, you gave me a shot when no one else would. You took pity on a pregnant woman and paid me more than anyone else would have eventhoughtabout paying me. Now, the father of my child – amob boss– has burst intoyour office and turned everything upside down. Idothink I need to worry about this.”
He laughs hollowly. “Yeah, fair enough,” he grunts.
“What should I do?” I ask.
He shudders, clearly experiencing a delayed response to what just happened. “I don’t know.”
“Let me get you some water, at least.”
I go to the cooler in the corner of the room, pour him a paper cup, then put it in his hand.
“Drink,” I say.
His hands tremble as he lifts the cup to his lips.
“I’ll call somebody about the window,” I murmur. “Get that taken care of…”
I trail off when I hear the heavy footsteps from downstairs. Rafe is halfway up as I storm down. His amber-gold eyes swim with conflict, with mafia-man focus but also something else, something softer.
I don’t plan it, but I throw myself at his chest, slapping my hand down. He takes a stumbling step back, not trying to defend himself.
“What thefuckdo you think you’re doing?” I yell, smacking him again. “You can’t just come in here with guns and pull this shit. What’s wrong with you? I thought we were building something, something real, then you pull a stunt like this?”
I stop, panting, adrenaline coursing through me like a drug.
“You have every right to be angry,” he says calmly, which makes me even angrier.
“Oh, great, I’m glad you condone my response,” I mutter bitterly.
He steps forward, attempting to wrap his arms around me. I fold my arms and glare at him, causing him to back off.
“I didn’t want our worlds to collide,” he grumbles. “That was the last thing I wanted.”
