“We’re past dating. You chose me up on that balcony, woman. And you sank your claws in so far, I’m convinced you can feel my bones.”
“We aren’t past anything. Not after you freaking kidnapped me!” I pointed my finger at him. “You could have killed us.”
He scoffed and sat down next to me on the couch. I fell over into him, unable to keep my balance with my hands tied. Some of the water sloshed out of the cup.
I stared at it and then glanced up at him before I poured the cold liquid right on his junk.
“What the fuck, woman!” He jumped up, sputtering and wiping at his crotch.
I dropped the cup on the floor but kept my stare on him. “I don’t take kindly to being dragged around unconscious, nor to being drugged.”
Something danced within his eyes. He backed up and sat down in the leather chair, spreading his arms over the back of it, and smirked at me. The ski mask still swung from his hand, mocking me. “You know I’m the best at what I do, right? I wasn’t going to hit you with chloroform knowing the dosage could be off and kill you. We have ties to pharmaceutical companies around the world. The drugs I use now are much more refined. You breathed in a chemical that purely knocked you out but wasn’t at all harmful to your body. I wish I could say the same for what you do to me.” He mumbled the last bit to himself as he looked toward the ceiling.
“I’m not harmful to you,” I shot out. It was a defensive mechanism now because my mind was running through what he’d said. He’d utilized expensive drugs he probably shouldn’t have to get me here. For what?
“You’re the most toxic chemical known to man, Katalina. You’re a beautiful woman who is smart and happens to know it. You know you’re powerful, but I wonder if you really know how powerful. It makes you dangerous, unstable, and extremely volatile, especially since the whole damn city seems to be looking for you.”
“I don’t get the charade. I don’t get any of this. I don’t even have that much on Georgie. You’re being dramatic and over the damn top.” I wiggled my wrists. “Argh! Get me out of these.”
“Things are happening, and I’m not exactly sure who's involved. So this gives me a little time to work it out.”
“What do you mean ‘who’s involved’? You couldn’t tell Bastian and Mario? They aren’t involved with their sworn enemies, Rome. This”—I held up my hands and waved at my face—“is fucking ridiculous.”
“It’s not. I need a day or two to get everything straight. And I need you to sit patiently while I do that.”
“When have I ever given you the idea that I’m patient, you idiot!” I yelled, wiggling around on the couch in fury. “I’m the last person to sit around and do nothing. What info do you have? Let’s call Bastian and work through this.”
“He could be involved. I’m not disclosing anything to him.”
“He’s going to figure out you took me.”
“And by that time, I’ll know if I can trust him.”
“How do we figure that out?”
“Wedon’t need to figure out anything.”
“Argh!” I screeched and pounded both of my fists into my legs. “You’re all idiots, you realize that, right? It was ridiculously easy to slip past you all tonight to get Georgie alone. I’m good at finding clues, I’m good at getting people to trust me, I’m good at figuring out the missing equations. You need me. You all do. And without me, you’ll fail. You’ll miss something. And I’ll squeal. I’ll find a way to run to Bastian. You know I will.”
“Katalina, why can’t you just cooperate?”
“Because I wasn’t born to do that, and you and I both know it.”
“This time, I need you to let me be the boss, Cleo.”
“Not going to happen, Rome.”
“So be it.” He sighed and got up to set his ski mask on a black storage cabinet near the door. Above it was a weathered slab of wood with metal hooks. Each hook held a set of keys. “Which room do you want?”
“Which?” I hesitated and then blurted out, “I’m not staying here.”
He hummed. “You’ll stay with a man you barely want touching you, but refuse to stay with me.”
“I was fine with Bastian’s touch,” I shot back, ready to argue with him about anything at this point.
“My room will be fine for you. I don’t have all the bells and whistles of Bastian’s, but I have a bed. You need to sleep.” He took one keychain and spun it around his finger as he smiled at me. “Maybe to work out some of the anger too.”
“I don’t need to work out anything. I can control my anger. I need you to untie me”—I twisted my wrists, and the zip ties dug in, not budging at all—“so I can strangle you.”