“I’m flattered.”
“Don’t be,” she hisses. “My brother is as flawed a man as they come. I don’t have a lot in common with him. But the one thing we do have in common is hating you.”
I lean against the wall. “I understand why he hates me,” I begin. “But why do you?”
Her mouth pops open in shock. For one wild second, I have to fight the urge to bite her lower lip.
“You’re not serious, are you?”
“Deadly serious.”
“I’m waiting for the punch line.”
“Your brother probably feels like I’ve stolen his birthright, his legacy, all that fucking bullshit men spout to gloss over the fact that they’re just greedy for power. But you? You have no reason to hate me.”
“I don’t?”
“No. I did you a favor.”
There’s a vein popping in her forehead now. I don’t even think she realizes that she’s moved closer to me of her own volition. “Say that again, motherfucker.”
I’m not surprised by the fact that pissing her off is actually pretty fun for me. I am surprised by the fact that it’s turning me on. “Your father was a bastard—”
“And you aren’t?”
“I most definitely am,” I concede with a wry chuckle. “But we’re different men. I may travel in the same circles, but I have boundaries I never cross. I have principles I follow.”
“Oh, wow,” she scoffs. “A noble murderer. How refreshing.”
“I kill when I have to,” I say patiently. “I do horrible things sometimes—”
“Sometimes, even decent men must do terrible things for the greater good,” she repeats again. “Still drinking that Kool-Aid, huh?”
I cock my head to the side. “I don’t remember saying it,” I admit. “But it does sound like the kind of wisdom I’d drop at just the right moment.”
“Let me tell you what you are: you’re a fucking asshole,” she sneers. “An asshole who justifies the awful things he does by pretending like he’s some grand, holier-than-thou version of the underworld thugs he runs with.”
She takes another step towards me. Her chest is rising and falling with increased passion. That bottom lip of hers is beckoning.
“And you don’t know a fucking thing about my father.”
I don’t back down from her fire. It only ignites my own. “You don’t think I do my research before I slaughter a man and half his household?” I growl. “You don’t think I ask questions before I embark on a kill mission?”
“I don’t think you give a flying fuck either way.”
“Then you don’t know me at all.”
“I know enough.”
“And what do you know about dear old daddy, huh?” I throw back at her. “Do you know anything about him?”
“He was my father.”
“He was a fucking rapist,” I spit. The words come out harsh. But then, there’s no way to soften the revelation that your father liked forcing himself on unwilling women.
She stops short, her eyes glazing over with denial instantly. “You’re lying.”
“Why would I lie?”