𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖯𝗂𝖺𝗇𝗈 | 𝖬𝗂𝖼𝗁𝖺𝖾𝗅 𝖫𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖽𝗈𝗇

Chapter Twelve

Michael hadn't forgotten about that night either, and he watched pleasingly as she grew visibly uncomfortable. He knew she was in denial about her feelings towards Ana, questioned it almost daily. He found it odd that he hadn't known about it for longer, but maybe she was just that good at hiding it. Because really, that explained perfectly why the woman hated her so bad. Everyone at the cooperative had loved her, apart from Venable.

He wasn't angry that another human being found his wife attractive, he found it extremely amusing. Hilarious, even, and had to keep himself from cackling like a three year old.

And the mood in the room was completely different compared to what it had been moments ago. Michael and Ana didn't like fighting, but they loved making up, and that's exactly what they planned to do.

"So," He cleared his throat. "Do tell me what I owe the pleasure of this visit?" She was beyond nervous, but she was tired of his games. Tired of feeling like nothing but dirt beneath his shoe.

She pulled the cold, metal gun from the back of her dress with ease, cocking it with her thumb as she pointed it at him. He widened his eyes a bit, not from fear, but from surprise. "My, my haven't you gotten brave?" He turned his lips into a smile, leaning against his desk.

He looked proud, and she swallowed as she kept from vomiting all over the floor. "I must say that I am surprised, but dissatisfied in your lack of intelligence."

She narrowed her eyes for a moment.

He was quiet, and he knew Ana would be back any minute. He gave a breath, smiling as he shook his head. "I'm the devil, Wilhemina, you're going to need a bigger toy to make somewhat of an impact of me, darling."

She jumped when he stood, and she couldn't dismiss how idiot she felt holding the gun. She wasn't even sure if she had planned to shoot him, she just wanted to get a rise out of Ana. Shooting her husband surely would have done the trick.

"You're the own holding the gun," He laughed at her flinch. "No need to be so scared. Please, have a seat. There's some things I'd like to discuss with you."

She didn't like the way her hand was shaking, and she found herself being guided by his hand and into the leather chair. He glanced at the barrel that was settled between his eyes, and back up to her face as he sat down. "I like you, Venable, despite that overly large stick you have up your ass. I don't know why you've always had to make things so difficult for me."

She grew confused at his choice of words. "Always?" She repeated. "Mr. Langdon, you've not known me for long. Surely, I haven't been able to crawl under your skin that easily."

He nodded. "Oh. I keep forgetting. You still can't remember. I apologize for that, but I find it entertaining tormenting you." He smirked, loving the emotions that danced in her eyes. "Right, right, I'm sorry." He backtracked. "Look, all I wanted to say was that I think you're taking things too seriously. I believe you would serve me a great purpose, Ms. Venable. And, I'm sure Ana would agree also." He added, relaxed into his seat.

She lowered the gun to rear against her legs, not having the ability to keep it up any longer. "What? I don't understand what you mean?" She was vulnerable, right now. Michael could tell that she was showing a different side of herself.

"Despite our differences, you could be of great help to me. You have in the past, and have continued to do so in some way or an other. Although, I do have to admit that your ways of distributing punishment have perplexed me. You have a...desire for control, don't you?"