her mug down on the counter. “God, I’m going to kill him.”
“Kill who?” Ando demanded. “What am I missing?”
Tionne just shook her head as she made her way out of the room. Fury blinded her to everything and everyone around her. All she could think of was getting to Misha and wrapping her hands around his neck. He’d lied. He’d looked her in the eyes and lied. Never before had Tionne felt so angry. Or betrayed.
The elevator ride up to the top floor was the longest of her life, but she used the time to plot all the many ways she was going to murder, then dismember his body. By the time the door slid open, Tionne had come up with a grisly enough list of things to do to Misha that it would have made Stephen King proud.
She took a deep, calming breath as she stepped out of the elevator into the lavish outer office. Much to her delight there wasn’t a swarm of people about to witness the crime she planned on committing. Just Misha’s two personal guards who flanked the door to his office, one on either side, and Alba Colhan, Misha’s personal assistant.
The older Hispanic woman smiled bright when she saw Tionne. “Tionne, sweetheart, how are you?”
“Good, Alba,” Tionne lied through her smile. “How are you?”
“I’m doing just fine. What can I help you with today?”
Tionne wanted to say she could help Tionne dig a grave for Misha, but somehow she doubted that was in Alba’s job description. Although, with Misha, one never really knew. “I need to see your boss. Is he busy?”
“He’s in there alone, but”—Alba moved over to her computer and quickly began to type furiously on the keyboard—“he has a business call in twenty minutes. Want me to check if he can see you now?”
“Please,” Tionne said lightly. “That would be great.”
“Hold on one second.” Alba reached over, picked up the phone from its cradle, then pressed a button on the keypad. A few seconds later, she began to talk once more. “Misha, Tionne is here to see you. Do you have—” Whatever she was about to say was cut off midsentence, but she spoke again just a few seconds later. “Yes, sir.”
Alba placed the phone back into the receiver, then gestured to his door. “He’ll see you now. Keep in mind, though, he has that conference call.”
“I won’t keep him long,” Tionne promised before heading toward his door. It would take less than twenty minutes to kill him. When she reached his door, Darby opened it for her, then closed it behind her after she entered.
Misha was looking over some documents when she entered, but he spared her a quick courtesy glance up before returning his gaze back to the papers. “Missed me already?”
Tionne was not in the mood to be put on the back burner. She made her way to his desk, then around it so she was standing at his side. Furious, she reached down and snatched the documents from his hand and slammed them down on the desk. Misha jerked back in surprised and glanced up at her, brows furrowed in confusion.
“Something on your mind, love?” he asked as he turned his chair around so he was facing her.
“Tell me it wasn’t you,” she demanded.
“It wasn’t me,” he parroted none too convincingly.
“You’re lying.”
“No,” he said calmly. “I’m just doing as you requested. Of course, since I have no idea what you’re talking about, it could very well be a lie. What didn’t I do?”
“Fire Troy.”
“Oh, that.” Misha leaned back in his chair and looked up at her with a bored expression on his handsome face.
“Yes, that.”
“In that case, it really wasn’t me.” Misha opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a remote control. He pointed it at a colorful Persian oil painting and clicked a button that caused the artwork to slide to the side to unveil a small bar he kept well stocked. “Would you like something?”
Startled, Tionne pulled back. Had Ando been wrong after all? “No.”
Misha made his way over to the bar and
“Kill who?” Ando demanded. “What am I missing?”
Tionne just shook her head as she made her way out of the room. Fury blinded her to everything and everyone around her. All she could think of was getting to Misha and wrapping her hands around his neck. He’d lied. He’d looked her in the eyes and lied. Never before had Tionne felt so angry. Or betrayed.
The elevator ride up to the top floor was the longest of her life, but she used the time to plot all the many ways she was going to murder, then dismember his body. By the time the door slid open, Tionne had come up with a grisly enough list of things to do to Misha that it would have made Stephen King proud.
She took a deep, calming breath as she stepped out of the elevator into the lavish outer office. Much to her delight there wasn’t a swarm of people about to witness the crime she planned on committing. Just Misha’s two personal guards who flanked the door to his office, one on either side, and Alba Colhan, Misha’s personal assistant.
The older Hispanic woman smiled bright when she saw Tionne. “Tionne, sweetheart, how are you?”
“Good, Alba,” Tionne lied through her smile. “How are you?”
“I’m doing just fine. What can I help you with today?”
Tionne wanted to say she could help Tionne dig a grave for Misha, but somehow she doubted that was in Alba’s job description. Although, with Misha, one never really knew. “I need to see your boss. Is he busy?”
“He’s in there alone, but”—Alba moved over to her computer and quickly began to type furiously on the keyboard—“he has a business call in twenty minutes. Want me to check if he can see you now?”
“Please,” Tionne said lightly. “That would be great.”
“Hold on one second.” Alba reached over, picked up the phone from its cradle, then pressed a button on the keypad. A few seconds later, she began to talk once more. “Misha, Tionne is here to see you. Do you have—” Whatever she was about to say was cut off midsentence, but she spoke again just a few seconds later. “Yes, sir.”
Alba placed the phone back into the receiver, then gestured to his door. “He’ll see you now. Keep in mind, though, he has that conference call.”
“I won’t keep him long,” Tionne promised before heading toward his door. It would take less than twenty minutes to kill him. When she reached his door, Darby opened it for her, then closed it behind her after she entered.
Misha was looking over some documents when she entered, but he spared her a quick courtesy glance up before returning his gaze back to the papers. “Missed me already?”
Tionne was not in the mood to be put on the back burner. She made her way to his desk, then around it so she was standing at his side. Furious, she reached down and snatched the documents from his hand and slammed them down on the desk. Misha jerked back in surprised and glanced up at her, brows furrowed in confusion.
“Something on your mind, love?” he asked as he turned his chair around so he was facing her.
“Tell me it wasn’t you,” she demanded.
“It wasn’t me,” he parroted none too convincingly.
“You’re lying.”
“No,” he said calmly. “I’m just doing as you requested. Of course, since I have no idea what you’re talking about, it could very well be a lie. What didn’t I do?”
“Fire Troy.”
“Oh, that.” Misha leaned back in his chair and looked up at her with a bored expression on his handsome face.
“Yes, that.”
“In that case, it really wasn’t me.” Misha opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a remote control. He pointed it at a colorful Persian oil painting and clicked a button that caused the artwork to slide to the side to unveil a small bar he kept well stocked. “Would you like something?”
Startled, Tionne pulled back. Had Ando been wrong after all? “No.”
Misha made his way over to the bar and
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