Page 11 of Violent Little Thing

No Safety

ADONIS

I t’s eight o’clock in the fucking morning.

Eight o’clock and this woman woke up on demon time.

The sound of the gun firing is more jarring than the bullet that just grazed my shoulder before puncturing the tile above my kitchen sink.

I drop the dish I was about to rinse for the dishwasher and eat up the space between me and Delilah in four steps. I don’t think about the blood falling from my shoulder making the same trip across the kitchen. I don’t think about anything but getting to her.

She’s standing now, her fingers still wrapped around the gun while smugness and surprise fight for dominance on her face.

She looks like she’s just as surprised she pulled the trigger as I am.

Backing her into the wall, I watch her eyes narrow until my forearm slams against her throat, locking her in place .

She doesn’t struggle against me. Instead, she lifts her chin and trains her gaze on me with a smirk.

“How do you know I won’t shoot you again?”

Because that gun only had one round left in it . I don’t tell her that because it’s bad enough the safety wasn’t on. Jamming my forearm harder against her throat, I step closer, letting my next command land on her skin. “Give me the fucking gun, Delilah.”

“You first. Give me my phone, Adonis .”

Seconds pass and the devilish gleam in her eyes refuses to dim. Even when it gets harder for her to breathe, her smile doesn’t waver.

Gazes locked, skin to skin, a simmering heat tries to push its way to the surface, but I shove it down. I can’t look away from this woman. I’m still searching for something. A glimmer of recognition. A spark of the mischief I saw this time last year. But it’s missing.

And I can’t focus on the burning wound on my shoulder or the fiery panic consuming my lungs. Because she doesn’t remember me. But it’s clear that she hates me.

It’s in her glare. The flare of her nose. The malice marking her every move.

It’s all fucking clear as day.

Done with letting distraction win, I free the gun from her grip and tuck it in the back of my pants.

“What?” she sneers. “Asking nicely didn’t get you what you wanted? Join the club.”

Titus’ barking drowns out my retort and five seconds later, Ms. Aggie rounds the corner. The cheerful smile on her face fades when she sees Delilah’s feet dangling in midair.

“Oh, my goodness, what is all this?” Her hands are at her mouth as her gaze does a dramatic sweep around the kitchen.

Great, now I’ve traumatized my fucking housekeeper and lost my composure with the woman I’m supposed to be protecting.

Without warning, I release Delilah and let her stumble to the floor.

Titus whines at her startled yelp, but I exit the kitchen before another second of chaos has a chance to consume me.

On my way out, I hear Agnes mumble to Delilah. “You sit down and let me clean up this floor. I’ll get breakfast started for you in a minute, sweetie.”

I can’t fucking deal with this today.

“No safety, sir?” Victor’s concern is palpable as he dresses the wound on my shoulder. There’s no judgement, just worry stitching his brows while I focus on anything but the sting of the needle threading my skin back together.

“That’s not like you,” he notes.

No, it’s not like me. None of this is like me at fucking all. Unclamping my jaw, I reply, “It’s been a long week.”

Victor nods, not missing a beat while he goes to grab the fresh dress shirt from the hanger before handing it to me. “Here you are, sir.”

I dress in silence, irritated with myself for letting the woman in my kitchen get to me so easily. I don’t usually lose my composure like that. I just need to adjust to her personality.

She has a mean streak. I can work with that.

Sliding the tin of mints from my pocket, I pop two in my mouth before walking to the door of my office. Titus is camped out where I need to walk, using his body as a roadblock.

When I bend down to rub between his ears, some of the animosity coursing through me dissipates.

“Just keep an eye on her today,” I say before rising to my full height.

Titus tilts his head like I’m talking to him and an almost smile breaks across my face.

I look over my shoulder to catch Victor’s nod.

“And Victor?”

An expectant hike of his brows is my only response.

“Give her the fucking phone.”

“Yes, sir.”

My day at the office passes the way I prefer it: busy. Busy is easy since I was out of town for the past two days trying to tie up loose ends. Nonstop meetings and calls block up my calendar until a lull at four p.m.

And just when I think I have a second to catch up on a custom booking request, Victor’s stand-in for the week dips his head in my office and tells me I have a visitor.

“Who?”

“He says you know each other from The Society?”

The uncertainty in his voice makes me pinch the bridge of my nose. Regardless of how cagey a visitor is, Victor would have their whole life in a folder on my desk before their footsteps ever darkened my door.

But he isn’t Victor. I don’t know his name because he won’t be here beyond tomorrow. So, I incline my head and wait for the visitor to appear in front of me .

A cloud of crimson crowds my doorway before I can focus my eyes on who it is.

“Adonis, always good to see you.”

That voice. That fucking stuffy, conceited voice. Percy Peterson. A name as pussy as the man who carries it.

For the first time today, I regret telling Victor to stay home with Delilah. Because what the fuck is this?

“Why are you here?”

“I can’t check in on an old friend?”

We were never friends. The closest we got was an alliance between our companies a few years back.

His yachting company was the perfect upsell for my private jet clients and vice versa.

But that connection was severed before a month could pass.

He said it was my arrogance. I said it was his penchant for proving that sometimes the universe did make mistakes.

Either way, I didn’t want this man anywhere near me.

“Speak your piece or get the fuck out my office, Percy.”

He tilts his head as a cocky smile lifts his lips. “We didn’t get to speak at the auction a few nights ago.”

“And you went out of your way to fix that?”

The plastic smile on his face disappears the second my office door clicks behind him.

“Fine. I won’t waste any more of your time. You have something that belongs to me.”

“There’s nothing you have that I would ever want, Percy. Let alone steal.”

He laughs lowly, unbuttoning his bright red suit jacket before taking an unwelcome seat in the chair facing my desk. “I used to think the same thing until you walked out of the auction with sweet Delilah, even though you didn’t place a single bid on her the whole night. ”

I don’t speak, but my hand twitches to lock around his neck at the way he says her name.

“But you had a temper tantrum and ran off with something that belongs to me anyway. I shouldn’t be surprised.

You like bulldozing your way through situations instead of talking shit out.

But I decided to give you the benefit of the doubt this time.

” He leans forward at the same time a smirk slithers across his cocky facade.

“This is me asking you nicely to return what’s mine. ”

“She’s not yours.”

“That’s a matter of semantics. You see, the paper I signed and the million I was willing to pay say other?—”

His words get jammed in his throat when my hand fists around his airway. “Get the fuck out of my office, Percy. The next time you pull this shit, you’re leaving with a bullet in your head.”

Fear clouds his eyes before he can mask it and all I can think about is how Delilah never flinched when I had her against that wall this morning.

On cue, my shoulder protests from the grip I have on him, a reminder that I’m not at one hundred percent today.

Slowly, I relax my fingers and watch the color return to his face.

I don’t stop the laugh that tumbles out of me at how scared he looks. And when a coughing fit takes over his ability to speak, I reclaim my place behind my desk.

“Close my door when you leave, Percy.”