I’m instantly grouchy. Well, grouchier.
I cut the engine and look at the clock in the dashboard.
And what the hell is someone doing visiting so late, anyway? It’s nearly nine.
I walk quickly up the sidewalk to the front door. I don’t knock; I simply twist the knob and walk in, unannounced. If Marissa doesn’t like it, she can kiss my ass. And if whoever is visiting her doesn’t like it, they can kiss my ass, too. Unless they’d prefer to make it physical, which I’d be more than happy to do. Breaking some bones might make me feel a whole lot better about the situation. About life in general.
My irritation spikes to anger when I see the lawyer from the library sitting on the couch across from Marissa—Jensen something or other. It only makes it worse that Marissa looks the way she does. She’s wearing some sort of sexy lace top that cups her br**sts perfectly, and a skirt that makes her legs look long and slender. Her hair is up with a few strands dangling down over her shoulders. She looks like she just climbed out from under some lucky man. And that she’s ready for more.
Who the hell does she think she’s trying to impress?
She smiles when I stop at the edge of the living room. “Cash,” she says with emphasis, “you remember Jensen from the library, right?”
My only response is a grunt of agreement.
“I came across some case information I thought Marissa might find helpful,” he says politely by way of explanation.
“I bet you did,” I say snidely. “And you felt like it couldn’t wait until morning, right?”
Jensen laughs uncomfortably and glances at Marissa. “Uh, well, I have court early, so I’ll be at work well before dawn, and this is a big case, so I wasn’t sure when I’d have a chance to get it to her otherwise.”
“How thoughtful of you,” I say sarcastically. “Well, now that you’ve dropped it off, I guess you’ll need to be on your way. Get rested up before the big day, right?”
Jensen clears his throat and rises to his feet. “Actually,” he says, looking down at Marissa, “I do need to be going. I appreciate the coffee and I hope what I brought helps.”
Marissa rises, too. “Thank you so much, Jensen. It’s very helpful information and I really appreciate you going to all the trouble of looking this up and then bringing it over.”
“It’s my pleasure. Really.”
I watch as Marissa smiles up at this poser. For some reason I want to snap his scrawny neck.
“If there’s ever anything I can help you with on the corporate side of things, let me know. I owe you.”
“I might just take you up on that,” he says with a predatory smile.
My blood is boiling.
He turns to walk past me to the door. Marissa follows him, shooting me a stern look of disapproval as she passes.
Before he can make it out the door, my phone buzzes from my pocket. I pull it out and look at the lighted screen. My pulse picks up when I recognize the number. I dialed it very recently.
Dmitry.
The timing couldn’t be worse. I can’t talk in front of this guy—or Marissa for that matter—but I’m not leaving until he’s gone. Like, I-see-his-taillights-at-the-stop-sign gone.
I slip my phone back in my pocket and follow Pompous Ass to the door. “I’ll walk out with you. I need to make a phone call and I don’t want to disturb Marissa while she’s getting ready for bed.”
I know my comment sounds very familiar, intimate. Maybe even a little suggestive. But not enough for Marissa to take exception to it. It could be a perfectly innocent comment. It’s not, but it could be. It’s not my fault if Pompous Ass deduces that Marissa and I are sleeping together. But that would go a long way toward keeping his face from coming to blows with my fist in the near future.
“Fine,” he says sharply. “Marissa, call if you need anything. My secretary can get hold of me, even if I’m in court, and I can call you back.”
How very thoughtful of you, I think wryly.
“I’ll try not to bother you,” she says kindly.
“You’re never a bother,” he responds smoothly. After a few seconds of undressing her with his eyes, Pompous Ass looks back to me. There’s a challenge in his expression that sets my teeth on edge. “Ready whenever you are.” I’m not sure if he means it like I take it, but it sure as hell sounds like he does, like he’s ready to throw down over Marissa. Not that it matters. He’ll lose. I play to win. Always.
“After you,” I say, nodding toward the door.
Jensen opens it and walks through. I give him a good lead and turn to look at Marissa. She says nothing, and neither do I. Her eyes aren’t flashing in anger, but there’s something in them. I just don’t know what it is.
Without a word, I walk out the door and close it behind me. I wait until Pompous Ass is in his car and heading down the street before I slide behind the wheel of the BMW and start the engine.
I pause only long enough to hit the redial button before I slam the car into gear and speed off down the road, away from Marissa’s. Dmitry doesn’t answer; I get only an automated voice mail greeting. I dial again. Same thing. I stop at the stop sign and check my phone. Sure enough, he left me a message.
“Nikolai,” he says in his gruff, strongly accented voice. “You will not be able to contact me at this number. It’s no longer safe. I’ll be in touch with you soon. Expect my call.”
A loud click signals the end of the message. I hit replay and listen again. It’s no longer safe. Something has happened, but what? And why? Why now? Does it have anything to do with his association with me? Could they have found out that he harbored me, the other son of a traitor?
A surge of fury rises up inside me. Impotent rage. I want blood. Their blood. On my hands, quenching my thirst for revenge. But it seems every step of forward progress I make, they’re there, countering it. Tying my hands.
My frustration is at peak level and I need to vent, to release some angst. One face comes to mind. I’m too angry to think of why it does or the wisdom of going to her. I simply act.
I yank the steering wheel, whipping the car around. With a squeal of the tires, I race back down the street. Back to the condo. Back to her.
The brakes scream as I screech to a stop along the curb. I climb out of the car, slamming the door behind me. When I reach her door, again I don’t bother to knock. I twist the knob and walk right in, thankful it’s still unbolted. The fact that it was, which is incredibly stupid on her part, only adds fuel to the fire of my anger.