THIRTY-THREE

The downpour and incessant thunderclaps seemingly would go on for a while, so Margarita insisted on staying at his office. How did she even get into his office in the first place?

“You fucking drove here in this rain, why can't you go back?” The harshness of his voice would have frightened anyone, then again anyone but Margarita.

She wasn't fazed by hostility – Andrew did an outstanding job In making her accustomed to it.

So yes, there were few things that could ever be said that'd faze her. Derek being mean to her was something she had foreseen even before their alliance was made.

Presently, her legs were placed comfortably on his desk while her fingers busied themselves by filing her perfectly manicured nails. There was nothing for her to do or discuss with Derek and when he growled unfriendly at her.

“Say, darling-”

“Don't fucking call me that!” Rita's statement got cut short rashly by his light bark before he returned his eyes to the flies in his possession.

Being a doctor was no