29. Andrey

29

ANDREY

"That's it?"

Leonty's face falls. His fingers are twitching for a smoke in the same way mine do when I need a release. "I wish I could give you more, but she's not exactly talking to me at the moment."

"What's that got to do with it?"

"Every time I enter the damn pool house, she kicks me out again and asks for Leif or Olaf. This morning, she actually said she preferred that Anatoly be on guard duty today." He shoves his fist through his blonde curls. "Anatoly! No one prefers that miserable bastard to me. She hates me."

"And this is a problem because…?"

"I don't get invited to dinner or movies anymore," he complains.

"You are this close—" I hold my thumb and index finger an inch apart. "—to being thrown out of here on your ass."

"This is your fault, you know. She wouldn't have turned on me if you hadn't slipped and said I was the one who told you about her rekindled friendship with the blonde."

"It wasn't a slip. I want her to know I've got eyes on her at all times." Leonty crosses his arms, ready to keep bickering, but I ignore his sullen mood. "What's going on at Sunshield? Anything to report there?"

Leonty shifts uncomfortably. "Uh… no?"

"If you want me to replace you with Anatoly, too, then?—"

"Okay, okay," he protests. "That Byron dude is getting out of hand."

"What's he doing?"

"Flirting, mostly. Never misses an opportunity to approach Nat's desk for a conversation. Brings her stuff all the time—smoothies, cupcakes, cookies. And he's asked her out a few times, too. ‘No' is apparently not a word in the mudak's vocabulary."

I rise to my feet, fists already clenched and ready. "He asked her out?"

"The whole damn office knows that he's been trying to get in her pants since she started working there."

"And what does Natalia do when he flirts?"

"Er…"

My eyes narrow. "Leonty."

He slumps in defeat. "She always turns down the dates but, well… I mean, it's not like she encourages him; it's just that she doesn't exactly dis courage him, either. Especially not lately."

"What does that mean?"

Leonty is looking downright miserable now. "It's no secret that she's kinda pissed at you."

Of course that's not a secret. She nearly brought down the whole house the other day when she stormed into my office.

And if I was in any doubt about just how pissed off she was, it was cleared up later that night when I went to the pool house and found the windows shut tight and the doors locked.

Impregnable Fort Pool House has stood strong the last three nights.

"Go on," I encourage when Leonty pauses.

"Well, lately, she's been a lot more accepting of Byron's advances. Mind you, she hasn't actually accepted a date with him?—"

"Nor will she," I snarl, heading for the door.

He leaps up and dashes after me. "You're not gonna do what I think you're gonna do, right?"

I ignore him and pull out the keys to my Bentley. "You're off-duty today, Leonty. Relax. Go have a swim in the pool."

"Brother, do you really think this is a good idea? This is only gonna make her angrier."

"I know. I'm counting on it."

Sunshield doesn't close for a few more hours, but everyone in the office is deep in their mid-afternoon slump.

There's a bearded man playing Tetris on his computer. Another sleeping at his desk. Two women lean over their cubicle wall, heads bent together as they gossip about all the mundane fools around them.

"Mr. Kuznetsov!" a shrill voice calls, cutting through the afternoon lull.

I turn to find Natalia's presumptuous, breast-forward coworker, whose name I've already forgotten and whose face I'd hoped never to see again.

"How wonderful to see you in the office again! Have you come to meet Mr. Ewes? Because he's not here right now, but I can show you?—"

"Do you have an off button?" I spit.

That seems to take her down a couple of notches. She stares at me blankly.

"Thank God," I sigh. "Point me to Natalia."

There's no mistaking the pout that turns down her red-smacked lips. "She's over there, through those doors." She aims a manicured finger towards the wall of glass where the senior staff resides. "In Byron's office."

My knuckles crack.

I stalk off in the direction she indicated, fully prepared to break bones if I have to. Thankfully, Abby seems to have gotten my less-than-subtle hint, because she doesn't follow me. She may be an empty-headed moron, but at least she knows to stay out of the range of splashing blood.

Through the glass walls, I can see both Byron and Natalia. They have their backs to the door. Thanks to the carpeted floor, my entrance goes unnoticed.

"… you're being ridiculous," Natalia insists.

I can get behind the words just fine; it's her tone I object to. It's entirely too teasing to have any real sting behind them.

She doesn't talk to me like that, that's for damn sure.

"Trust me: I read it in a pregnancy magazine once. It's totally legit. Pregnant women need regular sex to maintain a healthy pregnancy."

My hands ball into tight fists.

"And why would you of all people be reading a pregnancy magazine?" Natalia asks incredulously.

"My sister was pregnant at the time. I wanted to be a supportive brother."

He moves his hand to Natalia's lower back. I take another step into the room.

You could kill him right now, suggests a voice in my head. He'd never even know who did it.

"That's the reason for the glow, you realize," Byron is saying in a serious voice. "If a pregnant woman is not getting enough sex, she doesn't glow. And you, my friend, are not glowing."

My fist twitches. It's going to feel so fucking good to bury it in his face.

But it does beg the question: why isn't she beating me to that (literal) punch? Why isn't she telling this creepy fuck to stay the hell away from her?

I shower her with amazing orgasms and expensive gifts and she despises me. This pompous horn-dog effectively insults her and she's still cackling in his office.

"All I'm saying is that I'd be totally prepared to step in and help bring back that glow."

"Byron!" Natalia exclaims. "Stop."

"Yes, Byron." My tone contains all the acidity that Natalia's lacks. "Stop."