Page 71 of Loathing My Boss
“Now is, actually, a terrible time to tell me that, yes.”
“Oops.” He kisses again, and I fear he’ll continue until I can find the strength to stop him.
Lucky for him, dreadful for me, I…don’t appear to possess that strength.
“Your breakfast is getting cold, sweet pea.”
“Ourbreakfast is getting cold, you mean, but how are you going to eat?” I sniffle. “Your dominant hand is aballoon.”
“I can think of one solution I would very much enjoy.”
As can I. My breakdown halts as my heart dips. I locate his eyes when he pulls away. “No,” I squeak.
“You feel bad?” he asks—evilly.
“Y-yes…”
“Then…take accountability. You’re my right hand today, Crisis.” He lifts my fingers and presses them to his lips while keeping his torrid gaze locked on me. “It’s occurring to me that you’re a fan of justice, and I’ve been too soft on you. You condone retaliation. It makes you feel better. Like you can control something right with the world.”
I shake my head. “N-no. I—” I swallow. “—I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Rising, he pulls me to my feet. “You’re a sweetie. You hate causing trouble outside your control. Asking you to let me take the brunt just because I love you makes your skin crawl. So.” He sits me down, takes his seat, and hands me his fork. “I’ll take care of you and protect you, and, when it makes sense, you’ll take care of me, won’t you?”
He opens his mouth.
I stare, horrified, between his lips and the fork I’m holding.
He can’t be serious, and—yet—he is.
It is going to be alongcouple of days…
Chapter 25
?
I actually highly recommend power imbalances.
Viktor
“And then she stabs him,” Crisis interjects, while I’m narrating for her to type.
Looking up off my outline, I murmur, “What an interesting detail to include in a kissing scene.” I lower the page. “Very well. And then she ran her hands down his chest to where he kept his array of daggers. Plucking one, so carefully, free, she positioned the tip at his chest. In one strong motion, she would end him.”
“Are those commas or EM-dashes aroundso carefully?” Crisis asks.
I smile. This is great. Today’s been great. Almost so great I’ve forgotten how very badly my hand hurts. “Follow your heart,” I say. She types, so I continue narrating, changing my voice for dialogue, “New paragraph. ‘What do you think you’re trying to do, princess?’ he rasped, gripping her hand. Moving the blade tip to his throat, he grazed her lips with his own. ‘Far better to stab me here. Fewer chances I’ll survive if you miss a vital organ.’ New paragraph. Filled with trepidation, her fingers loos—”
“I misspelled trepidation.”
“T-R-E—”
“I misspelled it asglee.” Crisis, smiling, looks back at me from where she’s seated at my usual desk in our stall bedroom. “Your male lead is dead now. Oops.”
Arching a brow, I rise from the bed and brace myself on the back of her chair, looking over her shoulder at the words she’s typed into my document. “That’s an incredibly vivid description.” She’s slit my male lead’s throat. Rivulets of red careen down his clothes as his weight presses on my poor princess’s body. He’s uttering a brokenwhyas the light fades from his eyes.
There’s sticky red, like syrup, on her hands and dress as the sound of him hitting the floor fills her ears.
The knife falls to the tile.
