Page 198 of Chaos


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My gaze drops, fishnets, skirt, boots—then returns to her mouth.

“You want banter,” I murmur. “Or you want me to stop paying attention?”

Her chin lifts, defiant. “I want you to stop interrogating me.”

“I’m not interrogating.” I tilt my head, slow. “I’m listening to what you’re not saying.”

She rolls her eyes, but her pulse jumps at her throat. “You’re insane.”

“I am.” My lips brush her neck, my tongue tracing her pulse. She shudders until my touch. “Answer me.”

“I was curious,” she breathes out, too fast again. “That’s it.”

I hum low, unimpressed. “Curious about where my things go.”

“Curious about the laptop,” she snaps. “You swiped it off the desk. It hit the floor. It made a sound like you killed it. I wanted to know if it’s broken.”

My mouth twitches with something darker. “Do you need a laptop, Beda?”

“No.”

“Then why do you want mine?”

“I don’t want your—” She cuts herself off, irritation flashing. “God. Stop twisting everything.”

I lean closer, crowding her by an inch. “If you want a laptop, I’ll buy you one.”

Her eyes narrow. “I didn’t ask you to buy me anything.”

“I’m not asking.” My gaze holds hers. “Use the card I gave you.”

She steps back, taking all her sweet scent with her like she’s punishing me for wanting it.

“It was just curiosity, Maksim,” she says, quick. “Don’t make it a thing.”

I stare at her long enough that the wind fills the space between us. Her breath stutters. She hates silence. She fills it with attitude because it’s the only armor she has.

I don’t give her what she wants right away.

Then I say, flat and final, “Nothing broken from my office goes in the trash.”

Her body betrays her.

Not much. Just a microscopic release—like a fist unclenching inside her ribcage. Like her lungs remember they’re allowed to work.

I watch it happen, and something cold settles in my gut.

She wasn’t curious.

She was checking.

“Okay,” she says, too light. “So where does it go?”

“To Dimitri.”

Her eyes flicker. “Dimitri?”

“He handles it.” I keep my voice bored, like this is ordinary—because it is. “Wipes it. Strips it. Fixes it or kills it.”