“I think my masculinity can handle you driving us to the meeting point.”
I roll my eyes. “How magnanimous of you.”
He hums, but I know he’s laughing at me.
“You look beautiful. I like that lipstick on you.” The cold tone belies the heat that his words inspire in me. “Wear it when you’re around me.”
“Is that an order?”
“A request.”
“And if I request you always wear a vest?”
He chuckles. “I’ll listen.”
“Then we have ourselves a deal.” I lick my lips. “Will I be around you… a lot?”
“Favors pile up and I have a lot of events to attend. Perhaps you can keep the cackle of hyenas away from me.”
“I thought you liked that,” I snipe. “Don’t all men enjoy being fawned over?”
“Jealous again, Victoria? There’ll be no need if you’re the one on my arm, will there?”
“You mean that?”
“Isn’t that what last night was about? Staking a claim?”
I tilt my chin up. “I’m tired of being seen as a child.”
“I haven’t seen you as a child for a long time.”
“Then—”
“An education is priceless and you’re no vapid doll. If I lock you away in my brownstone and let you act as my babymaker, it’ll end up with you starting a gang war from our bedroom?—”
“Hey!”
“It’s a compliment, I assure you.”
“Is that what you used to want? A babymaker?” I hate that my voice is shaky.
“I thought that was what rich men wanted,” he answers. “Their women tucked away, safe. Raising babies. Building a family.
“For a boy from the streets, that made sense to me. Such things should be precious. Then I came to New York and realized quite the opposite.”
“What do you think now?”
“I think that once you’re in my bed, Victoria, I won’t willingly let you out of it.”
Feminism aside, MELTDOWN IMMINENT.
How I don’t gasp is a miracle.
“You’ll chain me to it? 24/7? Sounds impractical.”
“As I said, I no longer want that.”
“But the two don’t correlate.”
