Page 58 of Tangled Souls

Oaklynn fans herself with her hand as if she can feel our thoughts. “Is it hot in here?” She inquires to no one in particular. Then her eyes snap to Betty who she scrutinizes. “You’re sweating.” When she leans forward, her voice drops conspiratorially, “It’s good to know it’s not just me who is hot and bothered.”

“Look,” Betty croaks like her mouth is too dry to form words, “I’m sorry. Mikhail approached me and explained everything.”

Oaklynn arches an eyebrow in question and in challenge. Fuck, she looks like the goddess of war. All she needs is armor molded to her and a splatter or two of blood.

“I’m just dying to know what the ‘everything’ is that he explained to you,” there is a note of glee in Oaklynn’s voice which can’t possibly go unnoticed.

“He told me all about how you were engaged to him first but then decided to sink your claws into someone with more money,” Betty’s face twists in disgust—disgust toward our woman—with her words. “He just wanted a chance to talk to you, something you were denying him even though you never returned his ring, while walking around here like some fucking princess. I told him about the meeting at that charity,” her words are flippant as if housing for those without doesn’t matter. “But he said that wouldn’t be enough. He said he wanted to expose you and humiliate you. The gala seemed like the right place.”

Oaklynn starts laughing. And when I say laughing, it’s not some easy chuckle or little giggle. She belly laughs to the point she has to wipe tears from the corners of her eyes.

Betty stares at her with her mouth hanging open as if our woman is the one who has lost it. Poor girl. She has no idea what she stepped in.

Oaklynn struggles to get the words out as she gets her laughter under control, “You really believed Kirill and my men would abandon me if I were called a gold digger. Or,” she snaps her fingers as the amusement in her eyes dies in a heartbeat, “even better, you could sense the evil in Mikhail and wasn’t at all sad about the prospect of him killing me.” Her eyes narrow as she starts to nod slowly. “You were hoping for it and relishing in the idea of a man like him getting his hands on me.”

“No,” Betty’s voice wobbles, “it wasn’t like that.”

“Women know,” there’s an ominous note in our woman’s voice before she shakes her head and tsks. “It’s an intuition we hone over the years for our own self-preservation. One you should have listened to instead of lapping up Mikhail’s bullshit thinking it was cream.”

With practiced ease, Oaklynn unbuttons her blazer and slips it off her shoulders, letting it fall to the desk to reveal the corset style top she’s wearing. It’s lacy and revealing, but in a way that is sophisticated and not cheap.

“Fuck, Little Bee,” Huck groans.

Our woman flashes him a wide smile before looking at Betty again. She stands up slowly before reaching back and tapping the handle of her knife with her nail, the sound loud in the quiet of the room since it’s only competing with Betty’s ragged breaths. I’m not sure whether I’m disappointed when she doesn’t pick it up or not. Oaklynn stalks forward, slowly, showing herself to be a sleek and practiced predator.

“You got it all wrong, Betty,” her voice is patronizing. “I was never engaged to that scum, and I never walked around here like a princess.” She grips the arms of Betty’s chair and leans in which forces Betty to lean back. “I walk around here like a fucking queen,” she snarls in Betty’s face, “because that is what, and who, I am.”

Oaklynn holds up her hand, her wedding and engagement rings on display and so fucking close to Betty’s face that she needs to cross her eyes to see it.

“I’m their wife,” Oaklynn’s words are measured. “Their. Wife.”

“We would never choose you, Betty,” Kirill growls the words.

When I look at my brother, his eyes are glued on Oaklynn’s ass as she looms over Betty. Fuck, I have no doubt that it’s a great view. I’m almost tempted to get up and move so I can get in on the view too.

“Never,” I chime in right along with Huck and Baker.

Betty tries to turn her head to look around the room, but Oaklynn grips her chin and holds her steady. “They are mine,” our woman’s words are menacing and final. “You fucked up and now I’m going to tell you what is going to happen.”

Betty swallows hard and tries to nod, but Oaklynn’s grip on her chin tightens. “O-o-okay,” she stutters out.

“You are going to pack up your shit and you are going to leave. Not just Volkov Enterprises. Not just Seattle. Not just the state. Hell, not even this seaboard. You are going to run as far and as fast as you can.”

Even though Oaklynn could shove Betty back, she doesn’t. She releases the scared woman slowly and then stands up to her full height. When our woman crosses her arms this time, I can’t hide my groan of approval.

“Never come back here, Betty,” the warning in Oaklynn’s tone is easy to hear. “Or the next time I see you I won’t just be tempted to use my knife; I will use it.” Her lips stretch into a smile that shows all of her teeth. “I’ll use it to gut you before I skip rope with your intestines.” Her eyes flick down over Betty’s body as she muses, “Maybe make a purse out of your skin.”

Betty is trembling in her seat to the point I’m almost afraid she’ll fall out of it. When Oaklynn steps back, our receptionist stands up and bolts toward the door.

Just as she grips the handle, Oaklynn calls out, “Betty.” The woman turns slowly, fear written all over her face. “Just to ensure everything is crystal clear—you’re fired.”

Make that former receptionist.

Oaklynn meets the heated gazes of each of us before turning toward Kirill. She points at him, her voice full of sass, “I’m hiring your next receptionist.”

CHAPTER 22

KIRILL

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