Page 21 of Start With A Slap

This was possibly the most infuriating manipulation tactic she’d ever witnessed. “The painting, Sever.”

“What about it?”

“You gave me a ten million dollar painting!”

“More like two million. Three with the value boost we gave it.”

We?“That’s not what I’m talking about. You spent that, and then you gave it to me. What does that look like?”

Gaze still on the board, he said, “It’s a fucking domination’s what it is. Pyotr, you absolute shit.”

Was he seriously treating her like background noise? “Are you listening to me? I am not one of yourwhores!”

He scoffed. “I should hope not. Be a hefty reward, even for all the things I have them do.”

All the things? What else did he have them do? Not that she cared. “I want you to take it back!”

“Too bad, I want you to keep it.”

“Sever!” she said, plaintive, hands on his desk. “I had to tell Jason it was a wedding gift!”

“So? Problem solved.”

“Dammit, Sever, I will not besleepingwith you just because you bought me something pretty!”

He finally looked at her. “But you will be sleeping with me?”

“N—! No!” She hated that he was able to fluster her. “God, you know what I mean! I won’t, ever! Butespeciallynot for that!”

“It’s a gift, all right? Not an exchange for services soon to be rendered.”

“I’m not... servicing you! My services will never be rendered! When are you going to get that through your gigantic, twisted head?”

He paused the timer, sat back in his chair, and gave her the crinkly eye smile. “What are you doing here, Ivy?”

Caught off guard, she straightened and said, “What?”

“I do have a phone. I think you even have my number.”

“I...”

“Wanted to see me?”

She stared at him, trying to get her vocal cords to work. “I — wanted to tell you how angry I was. In person. It’s easier to get your point across in person, everybody knows that.”

He nodded. “And how’d that work out for you?”

She averted her gaze.

A moment passed. “Want to know why I think you’re here?”

“Nope.”

“You’re here becauseI,”he said, carefully placing a wooden box over the chess board, “got under your skin. Those things I said to you?—”

“Werebullshit. I know how you operate. ‘Hey, let me mindfuck the art buff with romantic notions of the Warhol lifestyle only I know how to show her! There’s a quick way to get her in the sack.’”

“Please.” He got out of his chair and aimed a remote control at the fireplace. It came ablaze with awhoomp. “If I wanted this to be quick, I’d exploit your Daddy issues and have you spreading for me within the hour.”

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