¬ Fashire
What exactly was I looking at?
Now she chooses to hold her tongue and act all docile?
I glared down at her retreating frame.
Where exactly was she even backing away to?
"You sure enjoyed what you were seeing."
"I wasn't—" She shook her head. "I didn't—"
"You liar." I stepped forward.
Even at this point, I still wasn't entirely sure what I would do to her. Getting rid of that Becca would leave me with no other leverage unless she made new friends in this place.
Then again, maybe ripping off a limb each time she crossed me would suffice?
Watching the fear play across her face should have satisfied me, but it even made me madder.
I sneered, leaning in. "You were beaming."
She swiftly turned her head. A slight flash of anger and frustration swept through her face. My brows shot up.
She still had some fight in her.
Why was I even surprised?
"I didn't. It wasn't—"
She jerked against my desk, and a different scent hit me before I understood what it was.
