Chapter Twenty Eight

Ivan grabbed my arm and tugged me into what looked like an office. He closed the door behind us and spinned me into him. “You really are a feisty little thing, aren’t you?”

“Fuck you, asshole.” I glared up at him, shaking his hand from my arm and stepped back.

“Damn, Brenda. Why don’t you tell me how you really feel?” he said with a smirk.

“Why? So it can go right over your egotistically enlarged head?”

“I might consider it for a moment. Actually, on second thought, you’re right. I won’t pay any attention.”

“You are the most arrogant, self-entitled, patronizing bastard I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting in my life,” I hissed anyway. “And before you mention the pleasure, because you inevitably will, you should know the displeasure far outweighs the measly amount of pleasure you’ve given me.”

Ivan’s eyes darken, a