Page 31 of Volatile Obsessions

“I’m going to let that slide this time seeing as we have more important things to discuss than your low blow tactics. How’s that for some class?” I tossed back.

My answer was a sinister grin. Nothing less, nothing more. And it only served to irk me further. He wasn’t fazed. Not remotely.

“Who the hell are you?” I blurted out angrily, stopping at the foot of his space, my fingers twitching on the trigger.

Icy blue eyes dropped to my 9mm for a split-second before slithering up to my face. He just stared at me, studying me closely. That was hard enough in itself, but I wasn’t at all prepared to catch his tongue peek out and swipe along his bottom lip. And I sure as hell wasn’t prepared to feel it everywhere either.

“Roman. Roman King,” he purred, breaking through the overwhelming haze. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

K for King… Roman King…

Something about his name made my stomach flip wildly.

What the fuck is happening to me right now?

“Can’t say I feel the same,” I barely managed, shocked at my body’s reaction to toward this man.

“Let’s see if we can change your mind then, yeah? I did agree to a chat after all. What is it you’d like to discuss, Miss Mercier? Tell me everything.”

“Or we can just cut to the chase.” I leaned onto his desk. “I believe your time in Miami has come to an end, Mr. King.”

“Has it now?” He questioned on a chuckle, yet again way too amused for my liking.

“Indeed it has.” I swallowed as his scent hit me. Mahogany…and teakwood, with the subtle hint of some mouthwatering cologne. “I might’ve considered letting you accumulate the odd client here and there, because everyone has to make a living, but you decided to fuck with me—not once, but twice. I’m not very pleased about that.”

Roman shrugged, one-hundred percent unaffected by the bite in my tone. “You have what I want,” he explained, inching forward closer to me.

I had to force myself in place. “And that would be?”

“Everything.” He grinned, cocking his head to one side, wayward strands of his dark coiffed hair falling in his face.

Another swallow. “Define everything,” I demanded.

“Money, power, respect. You seem to have it all, and I want it.”

“But why me?” Why choose to screw with me?”

“Because you’re an easy target, love. Women are too emotional, and emotions elicit vulnerability. See where I’m going with this?”

He was absolutely right, and that right there was the tipping point for me. I hated that he was right. Women were vulnerable creatures, especially women who’d survived the deepest, darkest parts of hell.

Women like me.

“So why not just come forward and state your terms? Why was any of this necessary?” I asked, wanting to focus on anything but how right he was.

“Because I knew you’d never agree to anything my assistant offered you.”

“Yeah, you know why? Because I don’t negotiate with messengers. You want to tread my streets, you come to me, not send your minions to sway me to your liking. And you most certainly don’t take out my people either. What you did was wage a war, Mr. King, and let me tell you, you picked a fight with the wrong woman.”

“Ooohhh,” he cooed in mock horror. “Am I supposed to be afraid?”

“You should be,” I warned.

Roman laughed softly. “I’ll make a mental note for next time.”

“There won’t be a next time. You need to get the fuck out of here if you know what’s good for you.”

“Not going anywhere, pigeon. Get used to seeing this mug a lot, since you don’t want to play nice and share. All that can change, though. Just say the words and I’ll be out of your hair,” he said, bringing a hand of ringed fingers up to twirl an emerald strand around a digit.

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