Adrian watches me with a new expression now. The charm is gone. The irritation has curdled into something sharper, something calculating. He sits forward, elbows resting on the metal table on his side of the glass. His bruised cheek catches the overhead light, making him look both more dangerous and more theatrical.
When he finally speaks, his voice is soft. Almost reflective. “You know, she has always had a talent for shaping stories.”
My grip tightens on the phone. “What are you talking about?”
He shrugs as if this is nothing more than idle conversation. “Your little employee. Elena. Every word that comes out of her mouth sounds like a well crafted performance. You ever notice that? She learned early how to twist a narrative to her benefit.”
I keep my expression blank. He wants a rea
