CHAPTER 3 – OF ARROGANCE AND BLIND RAGE

ANAHERA

I stare at the dashboard. My reflection in the rearview mirror looks terrified. My hair has been pulled back into a severe, no-nonsense bun that says, ‘I am a professional, do not mess with me,’ but my eyes are too wide and frantic.

Oh my God, I’m going to throw up at whats-his-name’s feet.

My watch says 8:58am. That’s enough delaying the inevitable. If I arrive late, that would give him ammunition against me. Being late means being flustered and I refuse to be flustered.

Grabbing my bag, I exit the car and march toward the entrance of the Obsidian Tower. It is one of those places where the doorman looks better dressed than I am. I give my name at the desk.

“Penthouse B. The elevator needs a key card which I have activated for you.”

Of course it has to be the penthouse. Because why would Noel Rautio live on a normal floor like a normal human being?

The elevator ride is swift and silent, unlike my heart which is currently performing a drum solo against my ribs. When the doors slide open, I step into a hallway that is unnervingly quiet.

The only thing at the end of the hallway is a tall mahogany door. I walk to it and knock.

My hands clasp in front of me as I take a deep breath.

“I am Anahera. I am the best Physiotherapist at the agency. I am calm. I am a rock,” I chant under my breath as I wait.

The door swings open and my ‘rock’ status crumbles into the dust.

Noel stands there, leaning against the doorframe. He’s wearing grey sweatpants that hang dangerously low on his hips and a black t-shirt that clings to him in ways that should be illegal on a Monday morning.

Grey and black. Two deadly combinations.

His hair is messy like he just rolled out of bed, and on his jaw is a faint, purple bruise blooming. A testament from last night.

It makes him look rugged which is annoying.

“You’re punctual, I like that.”

I ignore his useless comment and steel my voice. “I’m a professional, Mr. Rautio. May I come in?”

He steps aside, sweeping his arm in a grand gesture. Mockery. “Enter the dragon’s lair, Hera.”

Breezing past him, his scent hits me instantly. Cedarwood. It triggers a vivid flashback of the party and the softness of his mouth on mine. I shudder, shaking it off.

“So,” he says, closing the door and limping into the room behind me. “Did you get the file?”

I turn to him. “I did and I have questions. Specifically, how did this happen? Dr. Tiare said you requested a specialist from our agency specifically.”

He walks over to the kitchen island and pours himself a glass of water. “I did. My team doctor sent me a list of the top physios in the city. Agencies, profiles and success rates.” As he takes a sip, our eyes lock over the rim of the glass. “I went through them all.”

That does not sit well with me. I frown.

“Okay. And…Tiare just happened to assign me?”

Noel sets the glass down. His smirk stretches. “This is where it gets interesting. You see, Tiare never assigned you, doll. I picked you.”

The world stops spinning for a second.

“Excuse me?”

“I saw your name on the list. You were top of your class and had a high success rate with ligament tears. I thought to myself ‘isn’t that perfect?’ So I circled your name.”

My mouth drops open. He chose me. All those times at the party too, he saw my name and realized the connection, then dragged me into his mess. He had been biding his time.

A prickly wave of anger rushes up my neck. “You did this on purpose?”

“Obviously,” he replies casually like we are just discussing the weather.

I take a step toward him, my professionalism thawing like ice on a sunny day. “Is this a game to you? You think because you’re hurt and bored, you can just use people as pawns? Is that it? You want to dangle me in front of Dominik to do what? Torture him?”

He tilts his head, looking unimpressed by my outrage.

“You give yourself a lot of credit if you think I’m planning my medical recovery around you and your brother’s emotional state.”

I point an accusing finger at him. “Don’t lie to me, Noel! Everyone knows you hate him. You picked me so you could get under his skin, but let me make one thing clear. If you think you are going to use me as a weapon against my brother, you are sorely mistaken. I will not be a part of your petty little rivalry.”

He laughs. It’s a dark, rich sound. “A weapon? Jesus, dramatic much? I have better things to do than play cat and mouse with Dominik. I picked you because you were supposedly good at your job. And because…”

He trails off, his eyes dropping to my mouth for a split second before snapping back up.

“Because what?”

“Because I knew you’d react exactly like this,” he says, leaning back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “Look at you. You’re practically vibrating.”

“I am not vibrating! I am livid!”

“Potato, Poh-tah-toe. You’re flustered.”

“I am disgusted!”

He pushes off the counter and takes a step closer toward me. The air suddenly feels very thin.

“I called the agency because I want the very best and if you happen to be the sister of my rival, that’s just a bonus. But don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart. I don’t need you to hurt Dom when I can do it on the ice.”

“You are unbelievable,” I seethe. “Call the agency right now and tell them you’ve changed your mind. Tell them you want someone else.”

“No.”

“No?”

That arrogant glint in his eyes shine brighter. “No. I’m not calling anyone. I like this arrangement.” He takes another step. “I’m enjoying the look on your face too much to want to change you.”

He’s too close. I can see the flecks of gold in his green eyes. I recoil in disgust.

“What look? The look of someone who realizes she’s trapped in a room with a narcissist?”

He leans down. “The look where you look like you’re about to choke on your tongue.”

My breath hitches. My face burns so hot I think I might actually combust.

“You pig,” I grit out with the power of twelve years of pent-up resentment. “You haven’t changed at all. I used to watch you back in the neighborhood when you walked around like you owned the pavement even with the holes you had on your sneakers. And now? You have money and fame and this…this ridiculous apartment. But guess what? Wealth and fame can never wipe away a person’s ugliness. You are still the same ugly, arrogant boy inside.”

That stupid smirk vanishes from his face in an instant, much to my pleasure. His expression hardens to stone. Pure anger flashes in his eyes.

I know I won’t like the next thing that’s coming for me. But I don’t care.

Bring it on, asshole.