“Umm, that’s not your call. I can do whatever and whoever I want. And this is a prime example of why I won’t be doing you. No one tells me what I can or can’t do. I don’t check in. I don’t ask for permission. I don’t—”
“Have any common courtesy,” I interrupted her. “Because that’s what this is about, right? You doing whatever you wanna do without considering anyone else in the process?”
Her mouth snapped shut, and her eyes squeezed closed. “It’s not about that,” she said quietly. “And don’t make me sound like a bitch just because I don’t want someone telling me what to do every second of every day.”
That’s when the light bulb turned on. Whatever issue Elle had with relationships wasn’t something simple. “What does that have to do with dating?” My mind immediately went to some bastard who’d tried to control her in the past. I fought the urge to demand a name.
“I’m done with this conversation. If you’ll get out of my way, I’ll call a ride.”
I didn’t move. “You quittin’ on me, Elle?”
Her lips pressed into a flat line. “No. I’m not quitting. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
I didn’t know what kept bringing her back, but there was something in this shop she wanted more than she wanted me—that was for damn sure. So I decided to lay down an ultimatum. “You leave right now, and you’re fired.”
Elle’s mouth dropped open. “What! Because I won’t date you? You’re a piece of work.”
“It’s called quid pro quo. Not to mention I’m protecting your ass by standing between you and Rix.”
“You’re insane. Seriously crazy. I don’t get you.”
“You don’t have to. You aren’t from this world, you don’t understand the consequences, and I’m not about to let you learn the hard way when I can prevent it. On top of that—you’ve been trying to get my attention all week. So now you’ve got it. You just happened to get it my way.”
Elle looked to the side, as though bored with the entire conversation, but I recognized embarrassment when I saw it. She tried to cover it, but it still came through loud and clear in the pink blush staining her cheeks.
“And now that we’ve finished stroking your ego, I think we’re done here,” she said. Her words were quiet, and I didn’t like seeing her bold sassiness muted.
I decided to throw myself out there too. Fuck, I hoped I knew what I was doing. “I didn’t say I didn’t like you trying to get my attention. Do you have any idea how hard I’ve been fighting to stay away from you? Jesus, woman, you’re the sexiest fucking thing to set foot in this place. My dick has become way too well-acquainted with my zipper—and a fuck ton more acquainted with my hand since you started.”
I was glad I couldn’t see a mirror, because I was pretty sure my eyes were bugging out of my head. Which was a great look when paired with my burning cheeks.
But his bold declaration—and the thought of Lord getting himself off while thinking about me—stripped away my embarrassment.
My nipples puckered against my thin bra, and I bet if I were to look down, I’d see both headlights on high beams. My eyes dropped unintentionally. And so did Lord’s.
That sexy smirk … it got sexier, if that were even possible.
“Seems that even if that sassy mouth of yours has a problem with me, that hot-as-hell body doesn’t.”
I glared. Or tried to. Who knew if I was actually successful, considering how distracted I was by the heat of his body. I found my voice.
“Unfortunately the sassy mouth and hot-as-hell body come in the same package, and that package doesn’t date. And you can’t make me.” I sounded like a little kid who didn’t want to eat her peas, and I wondered how long I was going to be able to hold out against him. Good Lord—pun totally intended—the man’s intensity was searing. This was a prime reason why he was the absolute worst person to break the dating rule with. He wouldn’t just be demanding—he’d want everything. And I didn’t have it in me to give. So we were at an impasse.
“I’m taking you out. You’ll get over it.”
I opened my mouth to deliver a resounding no way in hell, but banging on the other side of the door had me snapping it shut.
“What, Mathieu?” Lord called.
“You nekkid?” Mathieu asked.
“Fucking kid,” Lord breathed, sidestepping us both away from the door and releasing me. “Come on in.”
Mathieu pushed it open, and in one hand he was holding a bottle of wine and, in the other, a small, square piece of paper.
Lord grabbed both the bottle and the paper.
“Mother. Fucker,” Lord growled, reading whatever it said.
I got a look at the label. Dom Perignon. A shiver of disgust worked through me. That was what I’d drunk one night over eight years ago and gotten so obliterated I could’ve killed someone and not even remembered it. The last night I’d had a drop of alcohol.
Keep it away. Keep it far, far away.
Lord walked over to me and held out the bottle. I made no move to take it. Mathieu must have sensed the impending explosion because he backed out of the room and closed the door.
“You see this? This is not how Rix usually operates. This is what he breaks out for a classy broad. Not even fifteen minutes, and he’s trying to stake his claim. It’s an insult to me, because he’s saying loud and clear either he doesn’t believe you’re really taken, or he thinks you’re worth going head-to-head with me to win.”