Page 15 of Monstrous Urges

She grins. “Then my guess is, you walked away because you have a hard time doing things not on your terms.”

My mouth twists.

“I’m right, aren’t I? Say I’m right.”

I sigh. “Fine. You…may be right. Sort of. Partially.”

Fumi holds out an imaginary microphone. “Could you repeat that a little louder for the folks in the back?”

“Surely you have work to do?”

She laughs as she stands. “Okay, okay, I can take a hint. Oh, Eloise and Tempest and I are getting drinks after work. What are my odds of getting you out two nights in a row?”

I roll my eyes. “Slim to none. Your husband is seriously fucking my workload up with that whole ‘getting elected to Governor’ thing.”

Fumi smiles. “If you change your mind, text me.”

When she’s gone, I pull out my phone and open the Club Venom app again. I hate the disappointed feeling that washes over me when I pull up my convo with NapoleonInExile and see that he hasn’t sent me anything since our pre-chase exchange.

Last night may have been terrorizing, and about a thousand miles past anything I ever expected for reality. That’s why I flipped out and used the safe word, shutting it all down.

Now, I wish I hadn’t. Now, I’m craving that touch of darkness I got with him.

Now…I want more.

My lip twists between my teeth as I tap out a quick message.

SecretSlut

Sorry I freaked out last night. I didn’t mean to just end it like that

I wait, but there’s no reply. The icon next to his username stays dark, indicating he’s not even online.

SecretSlut

I shouldn’t have used the word. I don’t even know why I did

I keep waiting, but there’s still nothing.

SecretSlut

I’d love to give this another try

The message stays unread. He’s still not online.

Fuck.

“Well, I think that went well.”

Alistair makes straight for the bar cart by the huge windows in his office when we walk in. It’s close to six, and most of the office down in “the pit” is gone or in the middle of packing up for the day. Well, not the interns and paralegals, but that’s par for the course.

Alistair and I have just spent the last two hours in a meeting with Gavan Tsarenko, current co-head of the Reznikov Bratva, and a huge client of Crown and Black. Up till now, it was Gabriel who mostly handled all of Gavan’s legal needs. But the jerk had the gall to go off and run for Governor of New York a few months ago, and the electorate had the nerve to go ahead and vote for him.

I mean, the guy is going to do a fantastic job of running the state. But it also means Alistair and I have a cubic fuckton of work to do trying to figure out how to divvy up his workload when he steps down as managing partner of the firm to fulfill his duties as Governor.

“Usual?” Alistair grunts from the bar cart.

“Please.”

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