Page 99 of Hunting Pretty

I swung the door open.

Cormac’s high-backed leather chair spun around from behind his large mahogany executive desk. “You’re la—”

“Really? I thought I was right on time,” I said, closing the door behind me and stepping into his office.

The stench of entitlement oozed from the rich, dark wood paneling, the polished antique globe sitting like some relic of a past life, and the perfectly manicured potted plants—it all screamed old money.

Everything in here, from the ornate bookshelves filled with leather-bound tomes with uncracked spines to the gold-framed front pages hanging on the walls, was designed to show off, to remind everyone how important he was.

I could feel Cormac’s smug presence in every overdone detail. This wasn’t just an editor’s office—it was his little kingdom.

Cormac’s face registered surprise before his features morphed into a sneer. “You.”

“Might want to lock your doors.” I took the chair opposite his and propped my muddy boots up on the corner ofhis desk. “Who knows what kind of psychos are running around.”

“What areyoudoing here?” Cormac asked as he eyed me warily.

I noted the open bottle of 25-year-old Macallan sitting by his elbow and the second glass of whiskey. He was waiting for someone, it seemed.

I snatched the untouched glass of whiskey and threw back the entire shot before he could protest.

The velvety liquid tasted smooth, woody and sweet with hints of cinnamon and nutmeg, leaving a lingering and pleasant oaky aftertaste.

Damn. It was the good shit. I knew for a fact that bottle would have cost up to three thousand euros.

Hmm. The asshole had taste.

Cormac didn’t say a word; he just fussed with something under the desk.

I slammed the glass down, smacking my lips like a heathen. “I’m afraid your little panic button has been disconnected. Campus tech is so unreliable, isn’t it?”

Cormac froze and I could practically see the wheels turning in his head.

That’s right, asshole. No one from campus security was coming.

Cormac crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his brown leather chair. “What the hell do you want?”

I smiled. Now we were getting somewhere.

“I want you to stop following Ava.”

“Please.” He let out a snort. “I’m done with that dumb bitch.”

I snatched the empty crystal glass and threw it at his head.

He barely moved his head out of the way in time, the glass shattering on the award and plaque covered wall behind him.

Cormac hissed, ducking as he was showered with pieces of glass. “What the fuck, man?”

“Call Ava a bitch again,” I said, my voice seething, “and I’ll cut out your tongue.”

He lifted his hands. “Fine. Alright. Fuck.”

I let out a calming breath and settled back into my chair, folding my gloved fingers over my front. “As I was saying, you won’t touch her again. You won’t even go near her. And that means you stop stalking her.”

Cormac frowned. “I’m not stalking her.”

I rubbed my fingers over my eyebrows. “You might think that watching her from outside her window is foreplay, but—”

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