Page 49 of A Touch of Chaos

She jumped as he grabbed her by the elbow, turning her shrewd blue eyes to him.

“What are you doing here?” she hissed.

“Move,” he said, pushing her toward a wall of meeting rooms.

“Let me go,” she demanded, but he ignored her, choosing the room closest to him, finding it occupied by four people—two men and two women.

“Out,” he barked.

They all stared in stunned silence until one of the men finally spoke. “Call security.”

Another reached for the conference phone at thecenter of the table just as it exploded, pieces of plastic flying across the room.

“Leave,” Theseus repeated. “Or I will remove you.”

They scrambled out of the room, and Theseus slammed the door shut just as he was accosted by Helen, who shoved him hard.

“You fucking asshole!” she seethed.

Theseus snatched her wrists. “Fight me, Helen. You know how I like it.”

She jerked free. “How dare you embarrass me!”

He narrowed his gaze, eyes darkening. “Embarrass you?”

He could think of better ways to embarrass her, and she seemed to recognize that.

Her mouth hardened.

“No,” she said.

“No?” he repeated, a little surprised by her resistance, though to be truthful, it also excited him. His cock had already been hard; now it was throbbing.

He preferred fucking Helen over the others in his rotation. She did not get attached or sentimental. She wanted what he wanted—a transaction that left them both satisfied—but if she fought? Oh, if she fought, she would be the perfect vessel—the perfect fuck.

He inched closer, crowding her. She tilted her head to keep his gaze, utterly fearless, and he wondered when that light would start to die.

“This is my place of employment,” she said between her teeth.

He could not decide whether to be annoyed or amused by her comment. Did she really think decorum would prevent him from taking her? She was lucky he’dchosen a room. He could have had her on the floor ofNew Athens News. He still might.

“That may be,” he said, lifting his hand. He trailed a finger down her face and along her jaw, working his hand into her hair. She tensed as his fingers sank into the back of her neck. He leaned in, his lips brushing hers as he whispered, “But you work for me.”

She did not react to the brush of his lips, did not try to kiss him back or give in to her hate-fueled desire. Of course, he preferred that. It told him that she was not falling for a fantasy as so many others had.

He drew back a fraction and met her gaze.

“Need I remind you?” he asked.

“I am well aware,” she replied, the words slipping between clenched teeth.

In the brief silence that followed their exchange, a tension began to build. It wasn’t so much sexual as it was fraught with anticipation, both preparing for the other’s move.

He smirked.

“I will remind you anyway,” he said as he tightened his grip. He twisted her around and pushed her to the table. She tried to dig her heels in and clawed at his arm, but she wasn’t strong enough to resist. He bent her over the table, facing the television that ran the same coverage of Persephone’s press conference as the one she had been watching on the floor.

He moved his hand into her hair, jerking her head back so she was forced to watch it.

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