Page 12 of Venomous Desires

His free hand caught my jaw before I got very far.

The touch startled me more than it should have. His fingertips were smooth, but his palm was rough with old calluses, like he’d spent years holding things much heavier than cigars. His thumb brushed the corner of my mouth; every muscle in my body locked.

So much for being blind.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

Maybe if I couldn’t see him, he’d become significantly less terrifying.

“...What’s your name?” he asked, carrying the faint scent of tobacco with every word.

I swallowed. “Seraphina.”

His thumb paused as he dropped his hand.

“Judas Romanovski.”

He took another drag from his cigarette as if introducing himself wasn’t enough to make me question every life decision that had brought me here.

I cleared my throat.

“I’m sorry, but... am I supposed to be taking care of you?”

One dark eyebrow lifted. “Do you see another disabled man in the room, Ms. Rosewood?”

“...No.”

“Then you’ve answered your own question.”

I discreetly scooted my chair back an inch.

The movement earned me the faintest twitch at the corner ofhis mouth.

It wasn’t even his eyes anymore. It was his presence. Every instinct I had insisted he knew exactly where I was, how I was sitting, even how tightly I was gripping the strap of my bag.

Maybe blindness sharpened the other senses.

Or maybe I was about to become the lead story on tomorrow’s evening news.

I adjusted my glasses again, pretending that was the reason my hands were shaking.

Against all common sense, I looked at him once more. He was unnaturally beautiful, like lightning, like the way venomous snakes were beautiful just before they struck.

I had the absurd feeling that if I blinked for too long, he’d be standing right in front of me.

Remembering Kyle’s warning, I pressed my lips together.

Just survive the interview... and hopefully leave with a job. Or, preferably, all of my organs.

“Go to the table,” he said. “Bring me the contract.”

Grateful for an excuse to put some distance between us, I stood, my ankle protesting as I limped toward the desk. The contract was easy enough to spot.

The pile of cash beside it wasn’t.

Nor were the gold bars casually stacked next to it like paperweights.

I stopped. Who just... left gold lying around?