“If you touch me, you’ll live to regret it, Ian.”
“Touch you?” He sneers. “Not with a ten-foot-pole, Natasha.”
“Is that what you’re promising your women these days? Seems a bit of an exaggeration… Though from what I recall, not too much of one.” Her voice drops volume with the last remark and she parts her lips, eager to kiss him after all this time. Another thing she remembers about him is that he is quite practiced at the art.
He gifts her with a purely malevolent smile. “I believe my memory is returning to me. I recall my grandfather being involved in getting rid of some unsavory elements, members of the Russian mob, if I’m not mistaken.”
Natasha shrugs, not breaking eye contact though the two remain inches apart. “You say mobster, we say businessmen. It’s just a question of semantics.”
“Semantics, eh? True, why should something so pesky as federal law be taken into account?”
“Purely arbitrary lines drawn in the sand by self-important cogs in the wheel. We choose to ignore them.”
“Yes, arbitrary, because money is money and heroin is heroin… not to mention guns and human trafficking, or anything else resulting in the propagation of human misery.”
“Fine. You want me to explain and save you the detective work and I find I still can’t resist you.” She spins on her heel and walks toward the far wall, her agitation now on display.
“Simply put, Ian, your grandfather was responsible for deporting mine, an act that led to his destruction in a very short period of time. He had enemies in Russia: sending him back was condemning him to death. As soon as he stepped foot on Russian soil, he lived for exactly 28 days before meeting with a mysterious accident, lapsing into a persistent vegetative state. It not only destroyed him but also our family in the process. To this day my grandmother has not recovered. My aim was to exact revenge on your family since the first day I met the tall, gangly Ian Blackmon in Mr. Parson’s English lit class.”
“So it was never real then? Between us?”
Now she sees she’s wounded him. Strangely it gives her little satisfaction. “I wouldn’t say that. I knew revenge was best served cold so I took advantage of the lead time and was able to enjoy you for a while.” She walks to him and grabs his tie, pulling him closer, the action reminding him of Ella instantly, with her pretty face focused in the lens of his mind. “And it was most enjoyable, Ian. I often miss it… and you.”
Ripping her hand off his tie, he throws it back at her. “I have nothing but contempt for you. Revenge is stupid and wasteful… and in the end, most unfulfilling. You should turn your attentions to doing something good in the world to make up for your disgusting criminal of a grandfather. What he did to better himself hurt others very badly.”
“Since when are you on a moralistic crusade? Where’s the Ian I knew who made money by exploiting the mistakes of others? Who called employees redundancies and eliminated them without a thought or regret? As I remember, euphemisms were spilling out of your mouth left and right: collateral damage, surplus human capital, personnel reduction… and the list goes on.”
“I’m proud to say that that man doesn’t exist anymore. I’m a new man, one who cares about the fate of others… and you know what? I still make buckets of money without hurting others. In fact, I often help others keep their jobs. I finally can sleep at night. I suggest you give it a try—I highly recommend it.
“Now, before I toss you out of my office on your pretty little ass I want to make sure you understand something very clearly: I don’t give a damn about your vendetta or whatever it is that’s compelling you to do nasty things to others. However, you had better keep Ariel out of it because if you involve her in any way, however peripherally, I cannot guarantee that you’ll survive the experience. Are we clear?”
“My, my, it appears you do have feelings for this girl. I’m a bit jealous, Ian.”
The look of incredulity on his face makes her laugh. “Do you not know how fine is the dividing line between love and hate?” She steps closer. “I miss you.”
At the same time he pushes her away, she reaches her hands up, weaving them through his dark hair so there’s a push-pull. Ian manages to shove her away and she stumbles backward before reclaiming her balance. Her ice-blue eyes flash, whether it’s lust or anger he can’t tell.
“Okay, I’ll take that as a no but do tell me what that bulge in your pants is all about, Ian?” She laughs loudly and coarsely as she exits the office, followed by a crashing sound as another large crater is blasted into existence on the opposite wall of the office.