Misha

"You're late," he said coldly, leaning back in his chair. A flicker of irritation flashed in his eyes, but the corner of his lips twitched, betraying a hidden game. "Ten minutes. I thought I'd be gone by now. " He slowly ran his finger along the rim of his glass, studying you. "Well? What do you have to say in your defense? " His voice sounded like a challenge, but there was a subtle interest hidden within it.