Page 59 of Filthy Little Fix
He approaches slowly. He pulls the armchair in front of my desk closer before sitting down, impassive to the tobacco smoke that permeates me.
I don't expect him to say anything. I haven'tallowedhim to say anything.
"Nicole Davis," I begin. One of his eyebrows slowly disappears under his messy bangs. "A beautiful, kind woman. She made you coffee today." I draw smoke from the cigar, seethe tension in his shoulders. He doesn't know what I'm talking about, where I'm going. "Tell me,Leonel. What else does she do for you?"
He frowns. His eyes—always almost translucent—dart to the carpet, to the fallen ashtray. He shrugs. "I thought you were more interested in my reports than my office social life."
And this bastard deflects my question.
"You seem close," I say, and the sound of it—Nyx and her close—disgusts me. "This girl, Nicole… twenty-eight years old. Has a hundred thousand dollars in outstanding debt. Her father had two bypass surgeries. Her mother depends on his pension to survive. The house mortgage has a variable interest rate that will be readjusted next quarter… it would be a shame if the bank decided to foreclose due to default."
He slowly understands the threat. His face shifts from mere patched-up curiosity to interest.
"You smiled at her today,Leonel," I say. I emphasize his name again. "She touched you—your arm, your back. Harmless gestures." He doesn't show what he thinks. He just looks at me with a strange intensity, and, fuck, I double down. "There will be no more harmless gestures," I state. "Withonecall, I'll fire her. I'll blacklist her name, ensuring she never works in this city again in any area remotely related to technology. I'll destroy her credit. I'll make sure her loan is foreclosed. So, let's establish some rules. Starting tomorrow, you don't talk to her, unless it's strictly about work. You don'tlookat her. If she says good morning, you ignore her. If she offers you coffee, you pour it down the sink in front of her. And if she touches you again… I'll break every fucking one of her fingers. And thenyours, for allowing it. Am I clear?"
He needs to understand he's not playing with just anyone. My hatred might have its uncontrolled form, but my control is different—and now, I control hisworld. I need to remind himit's not a good idea to test me. If before he did it for a punch and a hand job, now he understands that, above all, he drags people who have nothing to do with it into the black hole he is.
I don't directly involve those who don't deserve it. It's one of the Volkovs' internal rules. But he makes me want to burn all the lines. If Nyx wants to play with fire, I'll force him to watch everything he even looked at with kindness turn to ashes. And he'll know it's his fault.
He stands up. Slowly. I expect him to challenge me, to explain himself, but he doesn't. He wets his lips in the dirtiest way I've ever seen and gives me a feverish look. I see Nyx blossoming beneath that mundane skin of Leonel Hays.
I don't back down. This is the man I want to talk to.
"So, if I understood correctly…" he says. He approaches my desk, walks around it. "You bought an entire company, installed a state-level surveillance system… and now you're threatening to destroy an innocent woman's life… because Ismiledat her?"
He gives me a half-smile. I watch him say these words as he gets closer and closer, until he crosses the table separating us and is beside me. My chair turns towards him and I expect him to kneel before me, spitting more of his sick profanities to explain exactlywhoNicole Davis is to him.
He presses one knee beside the chair. He leans in, gets closer, and I find no reason to stop him from sitting on my lap, even with a red impulse screaming at me to push him off and make it clear he can't saythose thingsand put on a show with someone else in front of the cameras.
He brushes against my chest. He slides his hands to my shoulders and presses his weight against my groin, breathing heavily, letting a crimson flush paint his face.
"You don't need to threaten her," he says, softly. "She doesn't matter. Why don't you threatenme? Tell me what you'd do to me ifIsmiled at her again…"
He leans into me, whispers his shameless invitation in my ear, closing his eyes in anticipation.You don't need to threaten her.My jaw locks.
"You're protecting her, huh?" I question, grabbing his hip. I squeeze. I need to take this out on something. "Why?"
He shivers and says, fascinated, "Protecting her? Oh, mister…" then sighs, brushing his mouth against mine. "Are you really jealous? I don't care about her… I care about the fact that the idea of her touching me drives youcrazy," he whispers, sliding his hands inside my blazer. He grips my shirt with his nails, leaves a warm, wet kiss on the corner of my jaw.
Of course, he'll piss me off until I break his bones; he doesn't try to explain himself, doesn't justify it. I tighten my fingers on his thigh—I expect him to moan like the whore he is, to beg me to rip off his clothes, to ask for anything. I expect him to provoke me, to admit to fucking Nicole in the fucking restrooms.
He doesn't.
He says, slowly, as if his entire body wasn't reacting to me, "I'll do as you say. I'll stay away from her. I'll be good to you… I just have one condition."
My hand trembles with the effort of holding it back from closing around his throat, and he dares to say that—acondition.
"You are not in the position to condition anything, Nyx."
I spit the words through clenched teeth, but he just gives me that half-smile he always has before doing the worst things.
"But if I'm out of your sight, you don't know what I'm doing," he murmurs, tracing a line down my chest with his fingertip. "What I'm thinking. Who I'm thinking about." He pulls back to look me in the eyes. "I'll obey you. Every rule. But, at night... let me sleep in your bed."
His words stun me, and for a second—just a second—my hold loosens, and he takes advantage to run his fingers down my arm,taking my hand off his hip, placing my palm between his legs—hard as steel.
"I said you don't give me conditions, fucker," I hiss, grabbing his wrist to prevent him from continuing this idiocy. "You sleep whereItell you to sleep. And if I tell you to sleep on the floor at the foot of my bed like the fucking dog that you are, that's what you do. Understood?"
He bites his lip. His pupils dilate. And he doesn't stop his hips from grinding into my hand.
