“You’re pathetic,” he mutters, crossing his arms over his flabby chest. “I could get a better PA. I only keep you because I feel sorry for you.”

He tells me this often enough, too.

“If your mother wasn’t sick, you wouldn’t be here. Remember that, Katia. You are simply . . . average.”

Average.

My eyes burn. I’m usually full of sass and wit, but right now I’m tired. I’m tired because Mom had a difficult night, her head hurt and she cried a lot. I spent that time by her side. Then there’s Marcus. A man I have met three times and yet he is somehow convincing me he’s worth seeing more. He’s dangerous—I know he’s dangerous, but does it stop me? No.

I turn and leave the office before I burst into a fit of pathetic tears. That would only fuel Robert’s fire. It’s time for my break, and while I probably don’t have precious minutes for it, I’m taking it. Tears burn under my eyelids as I rush out the front doors of the massive building onto the bustling street. That’s when I run into a hard, beautiful form that I recognize by scent right away.

Marcus.

“Katia,” he says, placing his hands on my upper arms and pushing me back.

I look up at him, and blink back my tears. He narrows his eyes.

“You’re crying.”

“No.”

“Lying,” he growls. “Don’t do it.”

“My boss is being a jackass, that’s all.”

His face flashes. “Your boss is Robert Kaco, yes?”

I blink. “You know him.”

Marcus laughs bitterly. “I know him, all right. Let me have a word.”

“Marcus, no,” I cry, clutching his arm.

“You work over fifty hours a week,” he begins.

“Marcus.”

“On a minimum wage.”

“Please,” I beg.

“He treats you like a dog, I know this because I know him.”

“Marcus.”

He leans in close, with his dominant face on. His features are hard, and he allows for no argument. This scares me, but I push it down.

“You’re out here crying, and it would take me one single guess as to who did that. I’m going to have a word.”

“Marcus,” I plead, taking his arm. “This job is all I have. If I lose it...”

“You lose it, I give you one.”

With that, he goes inside. I find a park bench and drop my head into my hands, forcing back my tears. Sometimes life gets difficult, and I usually fight it but today I feel weak, pathetic, and unable to bring out the Katia buried deep inside, the one who can take on the world with a smirk.

She’s just not here.

~**~*~*~

MARCUS

“Good to see you, Robert,” I mutter, stepping into the office of Katia’s asshole boss.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m an asshole when I need to be, but I’d never send my girls to a street crying, nor would I make them work the hours she works, for a wage similar to she’s paid. I know everything about Robert, including what he likes to do on weekends. He forgets I’m a bad man. He forgets I can take him down.

He remembers now; I know he remembers because his face grows pale and he stammers, “What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

“I’m here to have a chat,” I say, leaning against the door.

“Get out of here, Marcus. I’ll call security and—”

“And what?” I laugh bitterly. “We both know if I want to, you won’t be leaving this room. I’m here to talk about Katia.”

His face curls in disgust. “Katia?”

“Yeah, Katia. My fiancé.”

He blinks. I keep my face blank. He doesn’t need to know we haven’t made it to that point . . . yet.

“Katia is your . . . your . . .”

“Moving on from that,” I say, pushing off the door and casually walking towards him. “You see I just found my fiancée outside, crying.”

“I don’t . . .”

“I’m not done, Robert,” I say, flashing him a glare that has his mouth slamming shut. “As I was saying, I found my fiancé outside crying. It’s not the first time.” Lie. “In fact, I know exactly how you treat her. I also know the hours you make her work and for a minimum wage we both know is pathetic, even coming from filth like you.”

“I’m her boss. What I do is none of your—”

“I hope you weren’t going to say it is none of my business.” I take a step closer and he stumbles backwards. “Because Robert, I will crush you.”

“You can’t come in here and threaten me, Marcus Tandem!”

“I can, I am, and you will do as I ask.”

“I’ll call the police and—”

I laugh loudly. “And what? Go on; tell me. I mean, we couldn’t possibly tell them you were part of smuggling drugs overseas, now, could we?”

His face goes red and his fists clench.

“I mean, where would that leave your business?”

“You have made your point, Marcus,” he rasps. “Tell me what it is you’re here to demand, and get the hell out of my office.”

I move then, wrapping my fingers around his throat and shoving him against the wall. His fat body wobbles as he tries to break free, his fingers pulling mine back, trying to get me to release his neck. His face grows redder and he starts gasping for air.