Page 78 of My Hunger, Your Soul

“Yes.”

“You know that’s a conflict of interest and highly unethical,” George states, his tone of voice not hiding his annoyance. He stands tall in front of my desk, his arms crossed and defiant in his stance.

“Yes, but I love him. Besides, he wouldn’t take it too well if I told him it had to end because it upset my boss,” I say, being defensive back.

“I’m unsure whether that’s a naive response from you, or an underlying threat?”

I shrug.

“It’s whatever you take it as.”

I feel sick. Holy shit, where is this coming from? I would never have challenged my boss three months ago, but here we are.

“Noted. Just make sure he stays away from the office. I don’t need my staff becoming traumatized by his presence, no matter who he is,” George says before turning to leave, closing the door behind him.

This will be a fun conversation to have with Ivan.

IVAN

I’m strolling down the sidewalk, on my way to collect Tyler from work when my phone pings. I take it out of my pocket and check to see a message from Ty.

Ty

You can’t come inside the building anymore. Can you wait outside for me?

Ivan

Why?

Ty

Some coworkers have complained and my boss said you can’t keep coming into the office. Please, Ivan. Wait for me outside.

Hmmm. That’s not gonna work for me. I don’t bother responding to Tyler. I think I need to pay his boss a little visit. Educate him in manners.

I finally arrive at Tyler’s office and walk through reception to the elevators, and make my way up to the thirtieth floor. As I step off, I look at the miserable witch who often glares at me when I turn up. No doubt she is one of the complainers about my presence. Instead of making a right to Tyler’s office, I walk toward the office next to the scowly PA where a big plaque with Tyler’s boss’ name is engraved, George Clayson.

“Excuse me, you can’t go in there,” the witch says and I ignore her, opening the door to the pretentious idiot who sits behind it.

The regal man stands abruptly from his desk as I slam the door behind me.

“Who the hell are you, barging into my office like this?” he demands. I want to roll my eyes at the weak display.

“I hear you are not happy with my presence in your building, George.”

It takes a second for it to click in his mind who I am, and I slowly walk around his office, skimming my fingers along the expensive desk.

“Not happy for me to be here, but happy to take my family's money?” I ask before picking up the papers on his desk and brushing them onto the floor.

“That’s not it. Some people are uncomfortable with you being here. It’s a place of work, Mr. Kozlov, not a family home.”

“Hmm, Mr. Kozlov. How very respectful of you.” I can feel my phone vibrating persistently in my pocket, and I know it’s Ty losing his shit because I haven’t responded to his text.

I remove my knife from my jacket and George stumbles back against his chair before he falls into it. Like I said. Weak. I rest the tip of the blade into the wood of his desk and lean on it as I move closer to him.

“Do you think you can stop me, Georgey?”

“Look, I don’t want any trouble,” he begs, raising his hands in surrender.

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