Page 26 of Behind the Scenes
“I have work?—”
“Give it to my assistant, she will reschedule for you. Trust me, she is very persuasive.”
I know, was what I wanted to say. I had thepleasureof getting pestered by her one too many times.
“That’s one way to put it,” I mused. “But no. We do this on my terms.”
Her warm laugh caused my face to heat.
“I don’t usually negotiate. But for you, my love, I will. Take some time. But not too long; remember what’s at stake.”
My life and my entire fucking career.
“I know,” I all but spat out. “Try not to bother me. I’m busy.”
She let out another laugh, but this time I cut her off by hanging up. Yet her laugh was still echoing through my mind when a text message hit my phone.
You’re cute when you get flustered.
“Jesus fucking Christ.”
laura
. . .
“I’m not doing it.”
The suddenness of the voice had me jumping out of my skin. My kitchen was pitch black save for the small light of the candles on either end of it.
I turned around to look the intruder in the eyes, and as soon as I met the bright blue orbs shining in the darkness, all the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.
This wasn’t my first time working with someone of her…caliber,but it was the first time I had ever come face-to-face with them.
Everything had always been handled by a middleman. Someone who wouldn’t connect either of us to the job.
It was safer. But this didn’t feel safe.This felt like a death sentence.
“You’re fast,” I commented and leaned against the hard countertop, trying desperately not to show my fear.
Her assessing gaze only caused my heart to beat faster. For the first time, I took the time to take her in just like she was doing me.
Her arms were crossed, and she was leaning against the counter much like I was. She was all in black with a mask covering her nose and lips. More importantly, she seemedmighty comfortable sneaking into someone’s home and surprising them in the middle of the night.
And here I thought I’d be able to get at least one night of peace this week.
“I’m not doing it,” she repeated.
I gave her a look.
“I heard you the first time, but you’re here, aren’t you?” I asked.
Her eyes dug into mine before she pushed herself off the counter.
“I’m here to refuse the job.” She paused for a moment before continuing. “And to warn you.”
I rolled my eyes. “Look, if you’re here to tell me this is a serious thing and that I shouldn’t, please don’t?—”
“No. I suspect you don’t need me to tell you what a serious matter this is after five jobs, do you?” It came out as a question, but it was rhetorical. And made my skin itch. I didn’t need to be judged like this.
