Page 2 of The Worst Man

Oh hell no!

I spun to face him—as much as the nylon belt wrapped around my middle and the metal arm digging into my side would allow—and glared a figurative hole through his handsome forehead.

“You goddamn, self-righteous asshole,” I hissed. “You’ve spent the last three years outright mocking me and undermining my work, and you somehow think this—” I waved my hand frantically between us “—is my fault?”

He pried open one bright blue eye. “Are you about done?”

My jaw fell open in shock. “Is that all you have to say?”

He closed his eyes again and shrugged. “It doesn’t matter what I say. You’ve already cast me as the villain in this story.”

I flopped back against my seat and an errant spring stabbed me in the back. It somehow felt fitting.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I shot him one last death glare. “You’re not smart enough to be the villain,” I hissed, closing my eyes for the remainder of the flight in an attempt to ignore the infuriating man at my side. Unfortunately, it wasn’t as easy as I hoped. I blamed it on the mint.

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