Sipping her Venti latte, Natasha Yenin sits in the overstuffed chair and considers her current situation, her demeanor clear-eyed and calm. She has to admit she was stunned by the option Ian took. Never in a million years would she have thought him capable of such a coldblooded solution. Even her uncles were surprised by his bold move… and angry as a hornet’s nest poked with a stick. They dearly wanted to pay him a visit before they jumped ship but didn’t have the luxury of time so they opted to stay alive to fight another day. Before they learned of the order, they were planning to beat hell out of Ian in payback for what he did to their precious Lucien.
Her uncles were not the forgiving type but they were loyal as the day is long. Wondering if she’ll ever see them again, she makes a mental note to check on Lucien; her uncles made her promise to watch over him. For some unknowable reason, they consider Lucien as helpless as Natasha is capable. Why, she’ll never know, but one thing both uncles know for sure is that under all her long, blond hair, tight dresses, and red lipstick beats the heart of a coldblooded killer. Not so with Lucien.
Killer or not, she told Ian the truth: she’d never have harmed a hair on his pretty head. She’d wanted to make him suffer for his family’s sins, oh, yes, but never have him pay in blood. Of course, she had no qualms about hurting his little twit of a girlfriend… but never her Ian. If it were possible for her to love anyone, she loved him. Still, now that she knew he was capable of ordering her death, she might just be able to return the favor… but she wasn’t certain of it. They were meeting today, probably each with the same agenda. Natasha didn’t believe he’d cancelled the hit order so she might very well be breathing on borrowed time.
Ian had said some hideous things to her on the phone. She wished his little Ella could hear what her gentleman was capable of. Too late she realized she should have switched it back to speaker without his knowledge. The bastard promised to search out and annihilate every person who shared her DNA, no matter how long or far the mission took him. He’d vowed the name and bloodline of Yenin would be permanently obliterated from the face of the earth for eternity. The thing that made her lose her composure was what he said last: he swore he never cared for her in the least, that she was just a convenient lay, and he’d have no qualms about ripping her cold, black heart out of her chest with his own two hands. That was the first really cruel thing he’d ever said to her. Even calling her a cunt was something she considered more of a compliment—it showed he considered her a worthy adversary. But swearing he never loved her? Even though she knew it was a total lie, it still hurt. Well, the first cut is always the deepest, right? From here on in, she’d wear a tougher skin… and it was her turn to cut into him.
Eying the people around her, the tall, blond woman is seated at a corner table in the café, never letting her guard drop an inch. She is following Ian’s orders to a tee. He’d been very specific about the table location: away from windows, as far from other diners as possible, and far removed from the kitchen or restrooms. His meticulous instructions included one about her rising from the table as soon as she spotted him and standing approximately two feet away from it until he reached her. That, she supposes, is to ensure against her holding a weapon under the table.
Two minutes after the hour, there at the entrance to the café is the man himself. She allows herself a moment to drink in his fine looks. It didn’t matter how long she knew him: every time she sees Ian again, it’s as potent a moment as the very first time she set eyes on him. She knew that day, all those years ago, when he loped into the classroom with the goods to back up the attitude, that he had to be her target and it made her heart lurch in regret. Sometimes life can be rottenly unfair.
Now that he had the upper hand for a few minutes, she allowed herself to ponder her commitment to her family’s revenge. Was it truly that important? The end result would be the same, her grandfather too far gone to ever return to them. Nothing she could do could ever remedy that outcome. The family’s finances were much better these days, thanks to her mother’s brothers and her own efforts, plus the windfall from her swindle of Blackmon Enterprises five, nearly six years ago. They all enjoyed a high standard of living. Shouldn’t she just forget the vendetta and walk away? She’d never be able to salvage her relationship with Ian, obviously, but it would permit them both to get on with their lives without fear of retaliation. She decided then and there that if Ian were amenable, she’d be willing to lay this whole thing to rest right now.