Tapping her foot in a staccato beat, she spits out her next question. “What kind of judge, Blackmon?
“Immigration.”
“Bingo. Ever notice that I speak with traces of an accent? I’m a Russian national, as are my parents… as are my grandparents.” She looks at him pointedly, as if that’s supposed to mean something.
He snickers. “Good for you. Now get to the fucking point. I have no time for chitchat about family history, fascinating though it may be.”
She finally deigns to take a seat, and he follows suit. Ian tries not to look but fails miserably as her skirt, already fairly short at several inches above the knee, rides up her shapely thighs as she crosses her legs. He suspects she’s not wearing anything underneath since that was a penchant of hers. If she does have on an undergarment, it is probably a skimpy thong. He musters everything he has at his disposal to banish the image that rides on the coattails of that thought.
Natasha grins, knowing exactly what’s running through his mind. He could never resist her physically and that gave her enormous power over him. She believed he’d mastered it by now but a few minutes in his presence and she could tell he’s still susceptible. If necessary, she’ll use it to her advantage. “You know what, Ian Blackmon? I’m not going to make this too easy for you. Perhaps I’ll merely provide you with the impetus to solve the puzzle. You know what they say: incentive is the mother of invention?”
“I believe the word is necessity not incentive, my dear. But please,” he gestures widely with his arm, “go on. The floor is yours—in more ways than one.”
“I had my plan all mapped out: I was going to obliterate your business bit by bit until you had nothing left. All the players and pieces were in place and poised, ready to play their parts. The initial act was executed—and brilliantly at that.
“And then what happens? You dismantle the fucking company yourself! Why would any sane businessperson do something so drastic? Tell me, Ian. Why?”
He shrugs. “I was no longer interested in capitalizing on the misfortune of others. Call it an ethical epiphany, if you will.”
“Ethical? I’d call it weakness. You’re weak, Ian, disappointingly so. I thought if there were anything I could count on, it would be your ruthless pursuit of success and profit. Yet, you proved yourself feeble, susceptible to pathetic human emotions, just as you’re beholden to your emotions in your personal life now.” She sneers with contempt.
“Yes, it’s a problem among us humans. But you wouldn’t know, would you? Someone like you wouldn’t be able to grasp my motivations because I was not propelled by self-profit nor aggrandizement. I think those two motivations and some ridiculous blood vendetta are all you’re capable of understanding. You are a psychopathic cunt, Yenin, and I have no purpose for you. Get out of my office and don’t darken my doorway again. You do not deserve to draw your next breath of oxygen.”
“How dare you call me that word?”
He laughs. “Trust me, I never use it lightly or even at all. In this case, it is richly deserved.” He leans in closer, making every word count. “You are a cunt, of the highest order. Moreover, I never want to be forced to look upon your evil again. It’s ironic that your twisted ugliness is encased in such a glossy veneer; however, now that I can see beneath it, I can easily identify the monster within… and it’s so irretrievably hideous.”
Pushing herself to her feet and spinning around, she begins to stalk to the door. “I do hope your bravado holds out when your precious Ariel goes missing, Ian. Perhaps then you’ll have the time and necessity to figure out why I detest you so much.”
The fires of Hades are ablaze in his eyes and his voice crackles with fury as he tears into her. “If you harm one hair on my Ella’s head, I’m going to take you apart piece by piece and I mean that in the literal not figurative sense, Yenin. That is a solemn vow.”
“Oh, please. I’ve already had her in my grips. Of course, Lucien disappointed me, big time. One would think a sophisticated, one might even say continental, man such as he could take on a silly little schoolgirl like your Ariel. Lucien blamed you for making it impossible.”
“So it was you who enlisted Lucien? I should have known: the man gave me the creeps from the first moment I met him… just as you do.”
“Your mouth can lie, Ian, but your eyes confess the whole truth.” She drops her voice to a low, husky register. “If I were to stand here in front of you and remove my clothing, I’d have you on your knees in seconds.”