Page 90 of Lethal Legacy

He crosses the floor with a lethal swiftness, punching the button with enough savagery it’s a miracle it doesn’t break. The doors close silently.

“I’m going to ask you again, Lucia.” He doesn’t try to touch me. He doesn’t need to. I couldn’t move if I tried. “Did you read the contract? Specifically, the part relating to termination?”

When I don’t answer, his mouth hardens into a grim line. “Feel free to nod, if speech has somehow failed you.”

I nod mutely.

“Good.” His eyes bore into mine. “Then you know you’re free to terminate our agreement at any point you choose. Am I to understand that you wish to do so now?”

I’m too bewildered to do anything other than stare at him.Is this some kind of cat and mouse?Does he want to play with me before he kills me? I’ve seen how ruthless Roman can be. I’m certain, though I’ve never seen direct evidence, that he’s killed before.

Naively, however, I’ve never imagined him being cruel.

“Cat got your tongue, Miss Lopez?” His eyebrows raise questioningly, though the hard glitter in his eyes hasn’t diminished a bit. “You seemed to have no trouble speaking minutes ago. You said quite a lot, in fact. Let me see if I can refresh your memory.”

He doesn’t move, his eyes pinning me to the spot.

“You said that it would besafer,for me, my family, and my business, if I don’t know your identity. You implied that I would trade you to the Orlovs. Then you said this is thelast conversationwe would have. Have I left anything out?” He pretends to consider. “Oh—wait.” He snaps his fingers. “That’s right. You also refused to tell me the truth. Because despite believing that I’mpowerful,and assuring me that youdon’t doubtmy strength, you apparently believe that I’m incapable of protecting you.” His icy veneer has burned away, exposing the searing rage beneath it. Roman, in fact, is angrier than I have ever seen him.

And I’ve seen him angry.

His fists are clenched, his eyes no longer the glittering arctic but burning hellfire. Every muscle in his body is tightly coiled, rigid with tension. Yet he hasn’t taken a single step toward me since he crossed the room. Despite the almost vicious sarcasm in his voice, I don’t actually feel afraid of him.

With a sudden shock, I realize why.

Roman isn’t angry at what I said.

Correction: he’s angry, all right. He’s fucking furious. And I’m pretty sure that it’s taking every bit of his self-control not to do something pretty savage to my body.

But not because he’s threatened by what I told him.

He’s insulted by it.

I’m so stunned that for a mad moment, I almost actually laugh.

I’ve offended him.

I’ve just told the most powerful man in Spain—hell, for all I know, probably in all of Europe—that I don’t think he’s capable of handling business.

And now he’s pissed.

Not just a little bit pissed.

The kind of pissed that would usually result in his employees being verbally savaged to the point of quivering, sobbing meltdown. Actually, probably far worse than that. None of his employees would ever dare to push Roman Stevanovsky to this kind of pissed. They’d all have the brains to shut the fuck up long before.

I, however, have just run roughshod straight over the red caution line, directly into the danger zone.

“I—I didn’t mean to imply that you were...” I stammer.

“What?” he demands. “You didn’t mean to imply that I need to beprotected?That I’m somehow incapable of keeping my own fucking business safe, let alone my goddamnfamily? Or are you saying that youdidn’t mean to implyI would invite you into my home, ask you to care for my children, only to then trade you to a pack of butchers who torture young women and old men?”

He raises his hands in epic frustration.

“What, exactly, did you imagine I could possibly need or want so much that I would consider trading a human life for it? Particularly the life of a woman who is caring for my children? A woman that I—” He bites off whatever he was about to say, spinning around and stalking across the room, wheeling to stand with his back to me, hands on his hips, staring out the plate glass window. His shoulders lift and fall with a rapidity that makes it clear how hard he’s fighting for control.

I know better than to approach him. I’m also reeling from his unexpected reaction.

I’ve lived in fear for so long, kept my secrets so close, that both the fear and the secrets have become a mountain inside me. It never occurred to me that to a man of Roman’s power, that mountain might seem like more of a molehill. A minor obstacle, a problem to be managed. Just another threat, in a lifetime that has probably been filled with far worse threats than I’ve ever faced. His palpable indignation is a revelation.

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