“Are you asking me what my intentions are with your man?” A faint smile curved Orla’s red lips. “A little. I mean, you love him, right? I feel like you do . . . when I see you with him, even without knowing you want to bang his brains out.” I’d never put words to how I felt about Nash McGovern. For so long he’d been this mythical creature. The hot VP from across the way. The target—the mark. The man they’d ordered me to kill, but I’d refused without—aside from the obvious I’m not a fuckin’ murderer reasons—ever truly knowing why.
