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His hair is still wet, dripping onto his shirt, and the smell of his heavy aftershave fills the room.
“Anyone ever tell you less is more?” I wave my hand in front of my nose to clear the fog of Cartier. “You smell like an eighth grader going on his first date.”
“Gotta give it time to settle,” he says, gesturing with his hand.
With a heavy sigh, I close the laptop. “I think I might have to admit defeat.”
“Never thought I’d hear a Walker utter the word defeat.”
“Don’t worry, Alistair.” I look at the time and grab my coat. “I’m not going home empty handed.”
7
Bluebloods Run Cold
Darren
There was a small part of me that worried she wouldn’t come – that little pebble of doubt that sat heavy in my stomach, but my offer was too good to pass up, and she knew it. I made sure of it.
As we sit across from each other at the diner – even though she doesn’t hide her disgust with me – I know that she’s made peace with her decision. I might be the biggest asshole in her life right now, but I had no other choice… at least that’s what I tell myself.
“You’re not the first man to propose marriage,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest and pursing those oh so luscious lips, “although you are the first one to ask while not fucking me.” She cocks an alluring eyebrow.
She says it to shock me or to bait me, and I’m all too willing to be baited, especially by her. I imagine the polite smile on her face, knowing that just the sight of her naked body would make a man drop to his knees before her. I know I did, and I would do it again and again.
The wind blows a few strands of wheat-colored hair from her shoulder as one of the waitresses walks by in a hurry. The dinner rush is in full swing, and every table is taken.
“If you prefer that I ask while in bed with you,” I smirk, “consider it done.” My voice is low and raspy from lack of sleep, and I lick my lips before taking a sip of the coffee in front of me.
She graces me with another beautifully defiant smile, and I can’t help but remember those lips as beads of water clung to them—the feel of her tight ass in the palm of my hand. It makes me hard just thinking about it, and yes, I realize how this makes me look, but I don’t care. That is how much I want her.
She’s my salvation, because I cannot wait three years to inherit my parent’s money. I cannot let Rausch have control over me and see his condescending expression every time I would have to ask him for money.
I grip my cup of coffee tighter and concentrate on Evangeline’s face.
“Is everything a game to you?” She shakes her head, causing her hair to tumble over her shoulders. “Do you play with people's lives because it’s fun?”
“That’s not what this is.”
“Then what do you want from me?” she asks with a raised voice, and it sounds foreign and strained, so unlike her usual soft, sweet tone.
“Are you hungry?” I ask, and she looks at me confused. “I’m fucking starving.”
She lets out a long breath and I think that she’s going to leave, tell me to fuck off, and she’d have every right to, so I say, “It’s a proposal.”
Her beautiful blue eyes narrow.
“A professional proposal,” I clarify.
She lifts an eyebrow, and I get the attention of the waitress to order a stack of chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream and syrup like I’m a five-year-old, but I don’t care. The waitress looks to Evangeline, but she just shakes her head. “I’m not hungry.”
“She’ll have the same.” I thrust the menus at the waitress, dismissing her, while Evangeline glares at me for ordering for her.
“You don’t have to eat it,” I tell her.
She crosses her forearms, propping them on the table, and scoffs.
“What?” I ask.
