He’s seven years behind on his taxes.
Enter me. Tania McMillan. Tax accountant.
If I can get Tyrant (yes, that’s actually his name) to stop laying waste to his enemies for a moment, I might be able to decide if boiling hot space oil is a combat deductible, or an entertainment expense.
I’m on contract to him until we can sort his Galactic tax debt.
He seems to think he owns me.
And that’s just the start of a series of miscommunications (you don’t even want to know what he does with red tape) which leads me to his battle bed, where he is just as rough and intense as he is on the battlefield.
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