Page 4 of Adversary to the Villain

“Because it depicted a scene far too cheerful for my liking,” he murmured, remembering the day he’d taken that window apart piece by piece, ordering his guards to deliver them to the person who’d betrayed him the most.

Sage perked up. “Oh? How so?”

With a lifted brow, he glared at the window. “It was of two lovers in a field of flowers. Reaching for each other but never touching.”

Her lips quirked. “You thought thatcheerful?”

“I thought it annoying and ugly to look at.” He huffed, the sun still highlighting where she sat with seeming vengeance, every part of her glowing. If only she, too, were…well, annoying and ugly to look at.

But alas, she was lovely.

Lovely?

Gods damn it all.

Clearing his throat, he steered them back to the matter at hand. “Rest assured, Sage, the staff will all be reminded of our strict no-fraternization policy. I’ll have Keeley escort you home. Enjoy your week’s end.”

Clearly befuddled by the abrupt dismissal, she stood and nodded, eyes round and questioning as she stepped away from the sunlight that now appeared dimmer without her. He really was turning into a damn fool.

“Thank you, sir. I hope you enjoy some restful time to yourself.”

Not likely.

“Off with you, Sage, before I revoke my generosity and make you clean the floor of the torture chamber.”

The way her face twisted was near comical—if he found things to be so, and he did not. Which was more evidence to prove how ridiculous the face was.

“Ick.” She winced. “Sir, I beg you next time to use the tarp I ordered.”

“Go,” he commanded.

And go she did, leaving her vanilla scent behind to torture him. He closed his eyes, breathing in, hating how it calmed him.

He made to move her chair back to the corner to steady himself, to regain his tether of control, but then he remembered how the light had touched her face when she sat in that exact spot. He stared at it for a moment, contemplating.

Then left the chair where it was.

Their unspoken battle was at an end.

And it was clear who had waved the white flag.

Stalking out into the main office, he saw Rebecka Erring packing up the last of her things. As he approached, she straightened. “Is there something I can help you with before I leave, sir?”

“What’s our policy on office fraternization?”

The woman’s owlish eyes went wider behind the rim of her glasses. “We don’t have one. Against my advice, I might add, but the workers don’t typically socialize in the office without your permission.”

“I don’t give permission,” he corrected.

She raised a brow. “Precisely.”

“See that we have one in place, and that those who break it do so at their own risk.”

“Risk meaning termination?”

“Of sorts,” he responded dryly.

Ms. Erring didn’t miss a beat. “I’ll be sure the other workers hear of it, sir. And I’ll be sure Thomas doesn’t ask Miss Sage for a romantic entanglement again.”