“Were your n**ples erect before I called or was that just for me?”
Instantly, she throws her arm across her ch*st. “That’s exactly the kind of talk that is inappropriate. And how did you get my number?”
“I own your place of employment, Brystin. It shouldn’t be that big of a mystery.” I shift so that my legs are stretched out in front of me. “The bigger mystery is why you seem to have gone back on our deal, less than twenty-four hours after we’ve made it.”
Sighing, she plops down on the edge of what appears to be a bed. “This is exactly what I was trying to explain, if you were listening. You were going to give me the show anyway. I didn’t need to agree to your deal.”
“Ah, but you did agree to the deal.”
“And now I have more information.”
This new information must have come from Adly. I’m still not concerned. Honestly, I should thank Adly for spilling because this whole arrangement just got a lot more fun. “New information or not, the deal stands.”
“Not if I don’t say it stands.”
“Then I retract my offer. Glad to know this was the situation before I put things in motion tomorrow.”
She hesitates. Her l*ps wrinkle when she’s working something out, and I’m oddly attracted to it. “Are you really retracting the offer? See, I don’t think you really are. You’re just playing another game. You want me to think you’re retracting the offer so I’ll do whatever you want.”
“It’s possible.” I let that hang. “It’s also possible that I might lose interest in this whole idea by morning. I’ve heard a lot of great pitches this weekend. You weren’t my only guest at Adeline.”
There’s that wrinkle again. She’s confused. Doesn’t know how to play her next card.
I decide to help her out. “Some advice, Brystin. It doesn’t matter what I would have given you. This is what we settled on. You can’t go back and offer less after you’ve put the offer in. Now I know what you’re willing to pay, and you’d better believe I’m going to make you pay it. I’m sorry you didn’t come out with the advantage.”
“You’re kind of a dick,” she says.
I grin because of course I’m a dick. It’s enchanting that she dares to say it to my face. I almost want to ask her to say it again.
But then I notice the pillows behind her in various shades of pink. “Are you in your bedroom?”
“Yes.” She sounds wary, as she should be.
“Show me.”
It takes her a second to decide to do it, but then the view on my screen swings from one side of the room to the other. It’s a quick sweep, but I’ve seen what I wanted to see. Twinkly lights, a lace canopy, feminine nightstands with girly lamps and accessories. “You have separate bedrooms.” I know I’m right.
I’m not sure why it feels like a victory, but it does.
“No, we don’t,” she says too quickly. “Why would you say that?”
“There’s no way a man would sleep in that bedroom.”
“Not you, maybe. But Elvis is comfortable with his sexuality.”
I shake my head. “He’s not that comfortable. You sleep in separate rooms.”
I wonder if he’s f**ked her in that bed. It’s not something I usually care about. I’m casual with my sex, and I don’t expect the women I’m with to be any more loyal than I am to them.
But here I am wondering if he’s f**ked her in that bed, and I want to punch my hand through the wall at the probability that he has.
“Okay, fine. We have separate bedrooms,” she admits. “Lots of married couples have separate bedrooms.”
“He wouldn’t if he truly loved you.” Cruel, and quite possibly untrue, but I want to wound her.
It does the trick. Her jaw goes tense. “Like I’ve said before, you don’t know anything about my marriage.”
“You’re right,” I concede. I regret hurting her. Not because I care about her feelings, exactly, but because now she’s guarded and b**toned up. “I don’t know what I’m talking about.”
The admission loosens her up. And surprises her. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“Is your door locked? Will he come in?”
She’s sitting on the bed again and glances in front of her, supposedly to the door. “He won’t come in,” she says. “He’s already asleep.”
“Poor guy. The weekend away must have worn grandpa out.”
She smothers a laugh. “Stop it. He’s not that old.”
“Sorry. I meant Daddy. Ten o’clock is when my dad goes to bed too.”
This time her laugh escapes. “You’re a dick.”
“So you’ve said.” Both times she’s said the word, my dick has reacted. I’m fully hard now, and it’s my dick that’s steering the conversation. “Take off those shorts. I didn’t get to see your cunt last night.”
“Uh…no thank you.”
“I bet it’s a pretty cunt.”
“I bet you’d love to find out, but not happening.”
I make a show of letting out an exaggerated breath. “Are we back to disputing whether or not we’ve entered into an agreement? You’re smart enough to understand how business works. Don’t try to tell me that you aren’t.”
“You’re right. I am smart enough to understand business. And no, I’m not disputing our agreement anymore.” She’s stoic, but I can tell she’s honestly accepted our terms. “However, I have already proved that I will uphold my end of the bargain. You have not.”
Whoa. She’s bold.
Why am I suddenly even harder?
“What exactly are you asking for, Brystin?”
“Evidence that you plan to do as you say. You could string me along for God knows how long, promising me a job, never delivering. Meanwhile, you have every which way with me—”
“Not every which way,” I remind her. “There were terms you laid out pretty adamantly.”
“Not every which way, no.” I’m sure it’s my imagination that she seems regretful. Or I’ve misinterpreted the sadness in her tone. “But the point remains—I’ve shown good faith. Now you show me yours.”
“If you’re asking for me to take my c**k out for you—”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.
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