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“Fine—very well. You don’t need my assistance. If you won’t hear reason, then let us make a deal instead.”
She pauses. She narrows her eyes at me. Her hair is in those ridiculous pigtails again, she’s wearing a ripped long-sleeve T-shirt over a tiny skirt; I can’t believe she went out shopping in Chanel looking like that. It almost makes me want to kiss her more than I already do. And by that I meankillher.
Wanting to kiss Willow and wanting to kill her are exactly the same feeling, the same sucker punch of want deep in my gut.
“What deal?” she asks.
“My mother holds a charity gala every year in Coram Ridge Manor. It’s the final event of the spring social season, and everyone who’s anyone in London will be in attendance, including Lady Astley and her garden party guests. Whoever you’re after—whatever you’re after, Lynch—you’ll find at my mother’s gala.”
She seems to consider the possibility, licking her lips as she thinks.
“When is it?” she asks.
“May thirty-first. The final day of spring.” I raise my eyebrows. “Only a few weeks away.”
She nods slowly. “And everyone will be there?”
“Everyone. It’s one of the biggest events of the year. Missing it would be social suicide.”
“Hm. I want legal paperwork, then. Like your contract. A formal, notarised promise that you’ll secure me an invitation and take no steps to stop me from attending. Something airtight.”
“You don’t need an invitation, Lynch. You’re my plus one.”
This gives her pause. Her lip curls in obvious disapproval.
“I’m not going as your date,” she clarifies in a frosty tone.
“No. You’re going as my girlfriend.” I tilt my head and smirk. “Asstipulatedin thecontract.”
Her nostrils flare in a sharp intake of breath. She grinds her teeth, bites out, “Fine. But I’m not meeting your mother.”
“You’ll be attendinghergala asherson’s girlfriend. You’re meeting her.”
“She’ll think we’re competing for your affection. If you force me to meet her, I’ll tell her I’m your fake girlfriend and that she’s the only one who gets your dick hard.”
“Let me remind you the contract stipulates that you’re not allowed to disclose to anybody that you’re my fake girlfriend.” My smirk widens. “As for my hard dick, Lynch, you can talk about it to your heart’s content. It’s clear to me my dick is something you can’t seem to keep out of your mouth.”
To my surprise, she doesn’t rise to the bait. Instead, she licks her lips, a nervous gesture, and she asks a question I did not expect.
“When’s the next hunt?”
“Why?”
“Let’s gamble on it. If you win, I’ll go to the gala as your girlfriend. But if I win, you have to let me go alone and not so much as look my way when I’m there.”
She sticks out her hand. I don’t want to make this gamble, not when I’ve already won it by virtue of the contractshehas signed.
And yet I can’t deny that I want to. I can’t deny the accelerated beating of my heart or the electric current of excitement sizzling underneath my skin or the hot, sudden rush of blood straight to my cock at the idea of chasing Willow once more.
I take her hand. “Very well. If you win, I’ll get you an invitation, and I’ll even pay for your cab there. If I win, you’re going as my girlfriend, and I get to fuck you.”
I didn’t plan to throw that in there. That’s pure impulsion, shameless self-gratification. Willow blinks, her throat shudders as she swallows.
“You won’t catch me,” she says, but by now I know the difference between Willow’s bark and her bite.
By now, I know better than not to be two steps ahead of her. She won’t find it so easy to outsmart me this time.
“If I don’t catch you”—I shrug, squeeze her fingers tightly in mine—“then I won’t fuck you. Do we have a deal?”
