This is another scene in Simeon's story.
The thud of the knife as it buried itself in the wooden wall a hair’s width above her head didn’t bring the expected satisfaction. Nor did her single raised eyebrow as she turned her head to look in his direction without attempting to straighten up. And it simply jacked up his fury when the stupid act didn’t abate his fury one iota.
When a hand on his shoulder spun him round to face the head of palace security, Simeon fought for control and rammed his fists into his pockets.
“Don’t you ever let me find you venting your spleen on a member of my staff again.” Paxman’s fury equalled his own now, and from past experience Simeon knew a pissed off Paxman was not a phenomenon to be taken lightly but this time he didn’t give a hoot.
“You think I’m going to allow you to fob me off with some kind of glorified nursemaid, you’d better think again.”
The explosion when it came ripped the air as cleanly as the knife he’d thrown at the wall. “Nursemaid,” he repeated in a voice colder than an arctic wind, and watched in fascination as she stood up straight, flexed her shoulders, crossed the room and snatched a couple of foils of the wall and threw one at him.
Sunlight glinted on the blade in her hand and the deep red hair, almost auburn, he thought, and wondered why it reminded him of a halo. If she was an angel she’d come straight from the fires of Hell.
One word and the sneering half-smile that tipped one corner of her mouth up just a tad was all it took for his temper to break free again.
If she wanted a fight, he’d give her one.
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