I have to work off my energy. I can’t sit still.
He shrugs. “So, you’re telling me your slave’s friend is working for the Italians?”
Is Courtney my slave? Is that how I should refer to her?
Technically, I suppose. Though things feel far beyond that now.
“I’m telling you that you shot a defenseless woman and let her live,” I growl.
Rurik stands up as well, leaning across my desk in what can only be described as a hostile posture. “Are you angry that I shot your girlfriend’s friend or that I let her live?”
I pull my arm back and swing, throwing my entire body behind the punch.
My fist connects with Rurik’s jaw. He isn’t expecting it. He spins back and trips over his chair, falling across the floor.
In the next second, my guards are in the room, lined up around the edges, eyes and wea
