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Gnashing my teeth, I follow him into his office, ignoring his hard stare. Am I overstepping? I don’t care, as I’ve never been appointed a personal guard before. Even with Augustus, my best men looked after him. I had more important things to do.

The woman is beautiful, and her dress compliments her hourglass figure. They greet each other with a kiss on the cheek.

“I apologize for the delay,” he says in that deep and sinful voice of his, smiling at her. It doesn’t reach his eyes and there is no flirty look. He’s nothing but professional, yet jealousy has my nostrils flaring.

“Nice of you to join us,” says Mikail, who gives me a hard stare.

I was so busy taking in their exchange, I didn’t notice that he was here as well.

This is a meeting, and Mikail makes me feel unwanted by constantly glaring at me. I glare right back, needing an outlet for my wayward emotions.

“Can we proceed now?” she asks and moves toward the coffee table.

Enzo pulls the chair out for her, the gentleman. She nods, offering a smile.

I stare at their exchange, searching for clues. If they have something going on, I am going to murder him and have his fucking cold-blooded heart cooked and share it with his dog.

Mikail and Enzo seem to communicate without using words. I know it’s about me because Mikail almost stabs me with his frosty glare. Enzo ignores him, moving on with the meeting, and I sit down on the sofa in the corner that faces the seating area.

She speaks of numbers and gun shipments, and with the cloud of jealousy slowly dissipating, I realize who she is. Zara Monroe, a gun trafficking heiress and an associate of the Syndicate. I know Enzo works with them now. He became an associate to get to me. They work together to increase their wealth, power, and unity.

If it weren’t for me, he would have never needed them to begin with. But he got himself some powerful allies. I wonder if those allies would appreciate him making me his guard and not dead.

“I admire your choice in guards,” Zara says as she’s about to leave.

I smile at her, liking when women cheer each other on. Maybe she’s not so bad after all.

When the meeting ends, Mikail and Enzo engage in deep discussion while other employees come and go. He has barely looked at me throughout the day and has become increasingly frustrated. Enzo hasn’t stopped snapping at people. Maybe he’s hungry even though I know the real reason, and so does Mikail. If looks could kill, I’d be bleeding out on the floor.

As a peace offering, I stand up and go downstairs to the cafeteria, picking something to eat from the buffet.

The moment I return, his eyes root me in place. The relief battling with potent emotions makes me pause. Pushing through, I place a generous meal of meat, salad, and sweet potatoes in front of them.

Mikail’s brows shoot to his hairline. “I won’t eat shit you brought me, Silver Death. It’s surely poisoned.”

“More for me then.” I am about to retract my peace offering when Enzo grips my wrist. “Don’t fucking leave again without my permission.”

This man will make me mental. This is my gratitude? Oh, I won’t let it slide.

I pat my heart as if moved by the thank you that apparently would have killed him to say. “You’re very welcome.”

Not even food helps his surly mood. At least I tried.

By the time they’re done with their meetings, night has swallowed the day.

We spend an hour alone after all the employees leave for the day. Whenever he glances at me, my heart rate increases, the silence thick with all the things we want but suppress. Needing to do something, I stand up, going from the window to brushing my finger over the desk, then picking up a framed picture.

“Put that down.”

I hold his hard stare, not intimidated in the slightest.

“Shouldn’t you be focusing your attention on those papers you went through three times already instead of me? Am I distracting you?”

I bait him on purpose, but he refuses to take it, instead he returns his attention to the documents. A few moments later, heapplies his signature, pressing so hard it wouldn’t surprise me if the pen cut through the papers and embedded his name on his desk.

Not long after, Enzo is finally done for the day, and we head down to the parking garage. I remain silent until we get into the car.

“Home?” I ask, seeking his gaze in the rearview mirror.