His Greatest Liability

chap 8

Tattoos fingers and red hair.

That's what I see when I tear my eyes from Nico's and look down, resentfully watching him coil a strand of my curly hair around his finger. I want to break it— his finger, that is, and stuff it down his throat. However I'm aware that the chances of me succeeding are very low, so I remain motionless.

Truly it's fear that renders me unmoving. I'm afraid to move or speak or breathe or even think.

Nico's cold stare strangles me with more force than his hands ever could.

"You didn't even look at my resume." I finally find my voice.

"Don't need to." He says coolly, tilting his head.

"I think you do—"

He tsks. "Wrong again."He tilts my head to the side, thumb brushing along my jaw and expelling toxins through my body as he does. "You're really on a roll."

"Fuck you." I choke out.

He frees me with much more force than necessary. In fact, he practically shoves my face away, and the moment I stumble backwards, he laughs to himself. My eyes water with tears and it takes all my self restraint not to reach up and rub at my throat.

My temple and jaw ache with hatred.

The devil sits down on the edge of his desk, fixes the cuffs of his expensive suit like actual shit had touched him, then he pulls out his phone. I watch him, and the king of diamonds tarot he's tapping his finger against, and I frown.

I know what that represents.

Money, confidence, power— finances.

I grind my teeth together and sit down, not giving him the chance to berate me any more.

If he does, I'll probably do something impulsive on my end, like burn this casino to the ground— with him in it.

"You start Monday."

I blink. "No."

He pauses, looking up at me with eyes dark enough to condemn me to an eternity in hell. Or is this my hell? When I agreed to spy on Nicolas, it wasn't with the impression that I'd put myself directly in his line of sight like some sort of sick satanic offering.

I've fucked up badly, and now there was no backing out.

If Jeremiah doesn't kill me first, Nico will.

That's for sure.

"Someone will provide you with everything you need. Training and uniform included."

"I don't need to be provided with anything because I don't work here." I bite out. I wasn't thinking clearly earlier, but I suppose after nearly getting choked to death that my head has screwed itself on the right way, and I'd rather lick a hot sidewalk than work for this monster. "I don't need a job."

Nico lifts his gaze from the phone that's attached to his hand. "Too fucking bad. You've got one." The weight of his gaze is heavier than I'd like. "Show up Monday, or don't. It's up to you."

"Don't manipulate me." I snap.

"I'm not." He shrugs, standing to his full height. His phone, right with his hand, slides into his pocket.

"You are." I clench my teeth. "I don't have an option. Nothing is up to me. If I don't show up on Monday, you'll have one of your men track me down and drown me— where was it you mentioned? A river?"

"No," Nico's expression speaks volumes, dark and intimidating ones. He buttons his suit jacket, looking relatively bored. "No one is going to kill you, that's not how this game works. You're going to be so fucking miserable that you'll end up begging me for death." His soulless smile tears my gut in two.