She glared back.

"You are exhibiting a serious lack of control," he stated quietly. "Obviously, one class of anger management wasn't enough for you."

"Yeah, she flunked anger management!" Max snickered. "You just wait, bitch. I'll give you something to be angry about."

"You are now officially under a restraining order," Roman told the ex-dancer. "You will stay away from Ms. Barkowski, or you will be fined five thousand dollars."

"What?" Max looked aghast. "What did I do?"

"Laszlo, call security to have Mr. Mega Member removed," Roman ordered.

"Yes, sir." Laszlo punched a button on his desk.

"All right, all right, I'm leaving." Max strode from the room.

"The third suit is dismissed," Roman announced, "and Ms. Barkowski has agreed to attend a second round of anger management classes."

Vanda gritted her teeth as amused whispering sounded around the room. "I don't recall agreeing to anything."

"You will attend." Roman regarded her sternly. "Father Andrew has graciously offered to counsel you again."

She groaned inwardly. The mortal priest was a kindly old man, but he didn't have a clue about all she'd been through in her long life. And she really didn't want to tell him. Or anyone.

Father Andrew smiled at her. "I look forward to getting to know you better, my child."

Vanda crossed her arms. "Whatever."

"I will need a volunteer to be her sponsor," Father Andrew continued.

The murmuring in the room came to an abrupt halt. Absolute silence.

Great. With her superior senses, Vanda could hear the crickets chirping outside Romatech. She felt heat rising up her neck. No one wanted anything to do with her. "I don't need a sponsor."

"I'm convinced that you do," Father Andrew insisted.

More silence.

Vanda turned to Gregori. "Come on," she hissed.