Anton
“What do you mean it didn’t work?” Anton snarled into the phone. “How could it not work?” He slammed the receiver in frustration and the harsh clank echoed around the office.
“Calm, Anton,” Morana soothed, lifting her hands to his shoulders, “you must be patient. Everything will work out.”
He shooed her away, and a frown crinkled her otherwise smooth features. He ignored it. “Don’t tell me to calm down. That stupid w***e can’t even keep the interest of a boy? Perhaps it’s time to start trading these hags in for some younger models.”
Anger flashed over Morana’s face. “Watch your tongue, Anton. You should know more than most that age means nothing. Or do I have to prove to you again how I can turn you to putty in my hands?”
He swiveled in his chair and clicked his tongue. Women. A
