Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 157162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Linen shirt, pale pink that day. Tan slacks. Loafers.
You’d peg him as wealthy with the flashy watch and the expensive clothes, no matter how casual because of the way he carried himself, as if he owned everything in the room because he indeed had enough money to afford it.
That energy translated to people. He was pleasant to everyone because he knew he could own them in an instant, having them buried a second later if they displeased him. He considered himself a god.
And seated in his office, I considered myself a god killer.
Dressed in my usual attire—an off-white pencil skirt that clung to my body like a second skin, displaying a modest amount of leg.
The blouse I was wearing was white lace, unbuttoned just enough to peek at my breasts without overtly displaying them. I had a flashy watch of my own on my wrist, a tennis bracelet, diamonds in my ears, hair pulled back tightly.
I felt powerful and looked it—for a woman, at least. Gregory was no idiot; he was cognizant of how dangerous I was, as much as a man could be. He’d seen the skirt, the heels, things designed to make it harder for a woman to run.
Except I wasn’t running. Not anymore.
“Thank you.” I reached up for the chilled glass he handed me. I didn’t react when his fingers purposefully brushed mine, the subtle scent of his cologne wafting into my nostrils.
“You’re welcome,” he replied politely, sitting on the sofa he’d offered me, watching as I took a sip.
The vodka was ice-cold and felt good going down my throat. I knew that Gregory wasn’t going to drug me. He considered himself too civilized for something like that. If he wanted to rape me, he’d do it the old-fashioned way, with pure brute force.
Not that I suspected he would do that either.
Though it wasn’t out of the question.
Rape was a crime of control. More often than not, men did it when they felt powerless, not turned-on.
And I was about to make Gregory feel pretty fucking powerless.
“I’m happy to see you back where you belong.” Gregory leaned back to cross his ankle over his knee. “It has been difficult trying to work with others. They don’t have your skill. We’ve gone through many … less than competent replacements.”
I sipped my drink again. This time it was not soothing going down. I did not show that, though. Didn’t even blink at the insinuation that they’d likely killed the last person who tried and failed to do my job.
This was how Gregory spoke. In expertly veiled threats, designed to catch those not paying attention.
I was always paying attention.
I placed the glass down on the table beside me. “I wish you luck in finding someone as competent as me, because I am not back.” My tone was sure, confident, not an ounce of hesitation. My back was straight. “I understand it was a … disrespect, resigning so abruptly.”
Gregory watched me carefully, his posture still casual, as if he were enjoying drinks at a beachside bar.
“I will admit, I was disappointed at the turn of events last year,” he sighed. “But I understand that even though you are not like most women, you still have female sensibility.” He waved his hand. “Hormones and such.”
I tilted my head, now smiling. “I understand that hormones are more of an issue for men of a certain age with rapidly disappearing testosterone, resulting in them not feeling powerful or motivated and unable to get hard. It tends to make them angry. Unreasonable. The male sensibility is the more volatile one, Gregory.”
His eyebrow twitched as he regarded me before he chuckled, shaking his head. “Oh, Calliope, how I’ve missed you.” He drained his drink then got up to pour another. “Not even my most trusted and ruthless men have the courage to speak to me like that.”
His back was turned, yet I didn’t mistake the mirth in his tone. I knew he was entertained by my bite. As much as a lion might’ve been by a kitten. But there was a warning there. He would only tolerate so much.
“Maybe you should find women to be your most trusted and ruthless soldiers,” I suggested.
“I am not unwise enough to make that decision,” he chuckled again, ice clinking. “Men are much more manageable than women.”
“As you have demonstrated,” he added quietly as he sat back down.
“I am not manageable at all,” I nodded. “And I will no longer be working for you, as I said last year. I thought it best to come here since, like most men, you don’t understand that no means no.”
His smile dimmed, and his posture stiffened as I scraped past the amiable exterior to the cold, revolting, evil man underneath.
“You are smart enough to understand, Calliope, that you don’t say no to me.” He swirled his drink. “Not now. I decide when you are done. You do not. Besides, what would you do with yourself? Spend more time babysitting … who was it? Ava? Mabel? June? The new one, Henry?”