Page 39 of Ferocious Nightmare

Twelve

The doors started closingand I had to jump forward to exit without getting left behind.

In a daze, I passed another secretary with a bright smile and long, gorgeous hair cascading down her back.

“Hello.” She beamed at me and I barely had time to smile back before Coulter took my arm, pressing me forward. “Don’t linger. No one here is your friend.”

He led me across a large room filled with buzzing workers. Rows upon rows of black chairs and white and grey marble desks. People stopped to stare, with golden tipped pens clutched in fingers and blinking monitors demanding attention.

A woman with straight, golden-blonde hair narrowed her deep blue eyes at me, staring at Coulter’s hand on my arm. The look she was giving me made a chill skate up my back and prickle my skin.

Coulter reached down, skimming my arm to thread his fingers through mine. He gave the woman an arrogant smile, and she quickly turned her head to stare at her computer.

We entered a brightly lit hallway with a large, looming doorway at the end. A guard stood outside the room. He wore an expensive Tom Ford suit, cut to exhibit his wide shoulders, thick chest, and bulging arms. But the spiderweb tattoos climbing across his neck and hands made him look more like the thug that he was. A Bratva soldier.

He stared at us impassively from down the hallway, clearly seeing us walking towards the office, but not making any motion to stop us.

The closer we got to Nero’s office, passing another row of enclosed offices, doors shut, the more distant Coulter grew. By the time he opened the door, slamming it against the back wall, making his grand entrance, he was back to the cold, calculating Coulter that I was deeply familiar with.

And now I understood why.

He had to be this kind of guy to live in this world.

Taking my cues from him, putting up my own armor, I let go of his hand, and stepped ahead of him. I plastered on a big grin. “Hello, Nero.”

His back was to me, and he was on the phone. There were more guards in every corner of the room, along with one standing just to the left, behind them. All eyes were on us, watching us carefully.

Nero didn't turn to look towards us as he spoke, nor acknowledge our presence.

Nero’s office was hideously decorated in what I imagined was the dream office for an eighties, cocaine fueled CEO. There was glass and gold everywhere, with scattered paintings on the wall.

Benny sat in a gold, wingback chair, a laptop open on his lap. His sharp gaze was on me as I huffed at Nero’s rudeness, dropping into the gold sofa in front of Nero's desk.

Benny was a skinny guy; I could probably beat him in a wrestling match. He had pale white skin, dark black eyes and hair, and reminded me of Pinhead’s skinny cousin. He freaked me out.

I gave him a grin. “Hello, Pencilhead.”

His eyebrows furrowed and his blank stare showed he wouldn’t answer me.

Ignoring him, and both their lack of responses, I flicked off my purple heels and got cozy on the sofa. Pulling my new lighter out of my pocket, one I'd stolen from Coulter's own hands, I put my feet on the sofa and flicked it open. I wished Coulter would sit instead of looming over his father like a giant tree.

“You’re my fucking cleaner. You’re supposed to take care of this, you piece of shit.” Nero slammed his phone down, yelling at it. “Take care of it.”

I bit down on my smile. As he looked towards us, his hair was oily and unkempt, which was unusual, and his deep blue eyes roamed over his desk, landing on a small ceramic figurine.

It was the top of a bare-chested woman, with creamy white skin. She was looking down demurely.

His fingers on his desk flickered towards it but Coulter shifted impatiently, and Nero’s eyes moved from the figurine to him. "You're here."

"No duh." I gave him a fake smile. "You summoned us.”

Benny scoffed, typing on his laptop even more loudly, though he didn’t look at us. Nero leaned back in his chair, sneering at Coulter. "You let her talk to you like that?”

"She doesn't talk to me like that.”

Nero's eyes narrowed. "Good to know, and this only proves my point further. Have a seat, Coulter. Stop looming."

I moved my feet so he could sit next to me, but Coulter pulled them back into his lap after he'd sat down, giving them a reassuring squeeze.

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