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The tattoo covering his chest from pecs to abdomen was a surprise. The skull not so much, but the vibrant display of flowers in orange, purple and even pink were a shock to discover. It looked like he had a flower garden on his chest with a skull buried amongst the petals. It was beautiful. She wanted to trace it with her tongue.
“Uh, Dr. Hawthorne?” Abel interrupted her lusty thoughts. “You still with me?”
She looked the man up and down. “Not even on your best day, Abel.”
Abel snorted. “You’re funny,” he told her. “It’s cutting, and it hurts,” he added quickly. “But it’s funny. I like it.”
“Great,” Angela responded dryly.
“The spot,” Abel prompted. “It’s itchy as hell.”
Now that she wasn’t focused on his incredible pecs, she saw very clearly that the man had a rather large red blistered spot in the center of his chest. It was chickenpox. She had no doubt about it. She couldn’t count the number of times she had diagnosed it over the years. But where would be the fun—or the revenge—in simply telling him that? “It looks like an STI,” she said instead.
“STI?” he repeated, looking at the spot.
Angela nodded solemnly. “Yes. As in, a sexually transmitted infection.”
“What?” Abel went pale before her eyes. “But no one has polished my knob for weeks! And never without protection,” he exclaimed.
“I don’t know what to tell you, Abel. It looks very much like dick-rot,” she told him seriously. “If not treated immediately, it will progress to your balls. They’ll become puss-filled sacs instead of happy sacs and will eventually fall off.”
“I don’t believe you,” Abel declared, crossing his arms over his chest.
She shrugged. “Since when has belief made anything more or less of a fact? Google it.” She turned and walked away, tossing over her shoulder, “Good luck.”
“Wait! What’s the treatment? Angela! Angelaaaa!” Abel bellowed.
She kept it together just long enough to get into her car. Then she burst into laughter. Was it cruel? Maybe. Did she care? Not in the slightest. Let the clueless Hulk with the red-rimmed eyes waste his day googling dick-rot.
She was sure it would yield some very interesting results.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Roman had just finished a phone call with his attorney when Abel barged into his office. He looked pissed off and was puffing, apparently having stormed his way through the building until reaching his destination. Roman sat back in his chair and waited patiently for whatever Abel had to say. Such entrances were not uncommon.
Abel marched his way to Roman’s desk, slamming his hands onto the polished wood. “You need to kill her.”
Roman’s heart skipped a beat and he sat up straight. “Explain,” he demanded, knowing Abel was talking about Angela.
“She did something horrible. Something there is no coming back from,” Abel explained, his blue eyes wide.
“What the fuck?! Did she go to the police? Why?” Roman demanded, launching from his chair and striding around the table. “What did you do?”
Abel’s head snapped back. “Me? What makes you think I did something? It’s that woman’s fault, not mine.”
“Because she seemed quite happy to ignore me and my threats for the past month, that’s why. Something new must have happened,” Roman stated.
It was the truth. It was one month to the day since he had really spoken with Angela. He had been shocked when she showed up wanting to check on Luca. He was counting on never running into her again. But she sashayed her pretty rump into his building almost every day for a week after that first time. And then every other day for the following two weeks. It was only in the past five days that she stopped showing up in his foyer. And that was because Luca was up and walking around, and pretty much back to normal. She no longer had a reason to be here.
If was grumpier than usual the last few days, it had nothing to do with the fact that he missed seeing her face on his security cameras. He wasn’t proud of the way he watched her every move when she was in his building. It made him feel desperate. But she went full ice queen on him the first time he tried to thank her for returning to follow up with Luca, and he’d be damned if he would tolerate that type of attitude. So, he asked Luca to find a way to send the security feeds directly to his phone, and he followed her from afar.
Over the past month, the number of times he got himself off in his private bathroom was borderline ridiculous. The worst part was, it wasn’t anywhere near as satisfying as it should have been. Because now he had Angela’s sweet pussy to compare his pleasure to, and his hand came up short. Very short.
He didn’t want to admit that sex with Angela was the best of his life. For one, it wouldn’t be happening again, which meant he was doomed never to feel the same pleasure. For another, it had been far more intense than simply great sex. Her body, her face, her heart, all combined to make it an experience. A life-changing one. Which could have been wonderful, but was actually terrible due to the circumstances.
“Well? What happened?” Roman demanded again.
“She didn’t go to the cops,” Abel said, and Roman was instantly relieved. “She—” was as far as he got before he was interrupted by the office door being flung open again.
