Page 58 of The Way You Hurt Me

He was my last call. Bringing my coffee to my mouth, and trying to appear as casual as I can, I put my free hand in my pocket and let my fingers glide across the screen, tracing my password. I have to think about my button placement. Bottom left, close to the corner. Then, top, and hit.

I haven't actually called anyone else in ages.

Let it work. Let it work, let it work.

I dare a peek inside my pocket. Call connected.

"If you'll excuse me, Mr. Lloyd." I speak as loud as I dare. "I need to get back to my desk to get you that report."

I put the call on speaker.

"Oh, I don't think so, Ruby. You're not going anywhere. Not unless you want the entire world to know how you spend your evenings, hm?"

There's nothing but silence on the other end of the line, but somehow, I'm calm. Collected. The very opposite of how I felt three days ago.

"I don't know what you're walking about."

"Don't you? I don't know how you got all the files erased from my phone, but I'm sure HR will be highly interested in how you're spending your time outside of work. Along with, say, the local news?"

I'm not scared. I'm angry. Angry because last week, Willow might have been terrified enough to give in to whatever he's about to demand. Because of every girl just like me who likely could fall for this.

I have to keep him talking—and away from me. Let him make his threats, loud and clear.

He can't touch me. I feel invincible, because Dimitri Volkov is in my corner.

28

DIMITRI

Idon't make a sound, though my phone is on mute, recording every word on the other end of the line.

I realize a few things with crystal clarity.

One? I don't do well with distance. Any sort of distance. Willow's never going to be too far for me to reach her within thirty seconds. Ever.

Secondly, I'm done with patience. It was well meant, but clearly a future endeavor that has to be set aside in light of recent events.

Thirdly? I am done with keeping my hands clean. Today, they bathe in blood. And I'll like it.

I never thought I'd be that kind of person, honestly. When I kill, it's out of necessity. If someone is gunning for me, I shoot first. It's simple survival, and it's actually legal. But there's no life-or-death situation here. The man is just a worm, trying to writhe under my woman's skirt.

And she is mine. She just doesn't know it yet.

"Sir, they're in position," Charles informs me.

Seven minutes. That's acceptable, I tell myself. None of this is the fault of either one of Willow's bodyguards, and they did well enough. But Willow will never again be in a situation where she's seven minutes away from help.

I think of all the things that could have happened in that time, tapping my foot.

"Sir, we're—"I'm out of the car before he finishes the sentence, entering the building.

There's security at the door, and I waltz past the metal detector, though the alarm starts as soon as I step through.

One of the guards comes forward."Sir, I'm going to ask you to…"

I don't pause, seeing his colleague holding him back, before bending his head toward me wordlessly. I'm already to the elevator.

"Move."

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