Blaise leaned against the table, studying her closely. She was trying to maintain distance, but he could see the redness climbing up her slender neck and the way her eyes filled with desire.
Good girl.He wanted her unsettled.
“I am making ityourconcern,” he replied slowly. “They listen to you, Little Blossom. Tell them dinner will be served at seven o’clock sharp.”
Iris could barely keep the smirk from forming as she met his gaze with a challenging look. “If the staff has been slow to adjust, it is only because they have served this house loyally for years. Through hardship and through my husband’s debts. They are not accustomed to… sudden changes in authority.”
Blaise pushed off the table and walked around her. He stopped just behind her, close enough that he could smell the faint lavender on her skin.
“Well, that is too bad. Because this house is mine by law and title, and you and I have a deal, Iris. So you either help me prepare it properly, or our agreement becomes considerably more immediate. You and your horde have not behaved, and you are not making this easier for me. You either listen like a good girl or suffer the consequences.”
Her breath hitched, but she did not move. “You enjoy threatening me.”
“I enjoy watching you squirm,” he countered, a dark smile tugging at his lips as he ran his hand along her chair without touching her. To his delight, she squirmed in her seat. “Now, will you speak to them, or shall I start dismissing staff until someone obeys?”
Iris rose from her chair, refusing to let him tower over her completely. The movement brought them dangerously close.
“Very well,” she said tightly. “I will instruct them to serve dinner tomorrow evening. For thebothof us. Is that all that you request?”
“Not quite.” Blaise’s gaze dropped briefly to her mouth, remembering how boldly she had kissed him the previous morning. “Tell them I expect full cooperation going forward. No more flowers. No more misplaced furniture and no more weak tea served at dawn.”
A spark of irritation flashed in her eyes. “You seem quite preoccupied with my servants’ behavior, considering you have your own staff.”
“My staff will learn the ways of this house, eventually,” he said smoothly. “But your people need to understand who holds the power now. Starting with dinner tomorrow. I want it to feel like a proper household, and not a battlefield.”
Iris’s lips pressed into a thin line. The tension between them was palpable.
“As you wish,” she finally conceded. “I will speak with Mrs. Henkings right away.”
Blaise stepped even closer, until only inches separated them. “Good,” he murmured, the words low and provocative. “See? Obedience suits you.”
Her cheeks reddened. “Do not push me, Blaise.”
The use of his given name sent a thrill through him. He leaned in slightly, voice husky. “Or what, Little Blossom? Will you fill my room with more flowers? Hide the furniture again? Or perhaps you will kiss me again just to prove howunaffectedyou are?”
Iris’s breath quickened, her eyes darkening with fury and desire. For a moment, Blaise thought she might actually slap him or kiss him again. The uncertainty only made him want her more.
She took a deliberate step back. “Dinner will be served at seven tomorrow evening. Now, if you will excuse me, I have servants to instruct.”
Blaise allowed her the retreat, but his eyes followed her as she moved toward the door. “I look forward to it, Iris. Try not to poison me.”
She paused at the threshold, glancing back with a sharp smile. “Do not tempt me.”
As she swept from the room, Blaise let out a low, appreciative chuckle. The woman kept him on his toes, and every confrontation only made him more determined to have her completely. Discipline for the servants was overdue, yes. But taming the mistress of the house might prove the most satisfying challenge of all.
* * *
“Your Grace, welcome! What an honor it is to host you at my club.” Mr. Reynolds greeted him at the door and escorted him to a plush booth.
“I heard a lot of good things about the Reynolds Club and had to visit it.” Blaise clapped the elderly man’s back, and he returned the gesture.
“Whatever you need, we will get it for you.” Reynolds winked at him.
“Thank you, Mr. Reynolds.”
Blaise lounged in London’s newest gentlemen’s club, and a glass of fine brandy was promptly brought to him, but the rich liquid did little to dull the restlessness within him.
Across the room, he noticed a familiar, striking raven-haired woman. She smiled at him, slow and inviting, leaning forward just enough to display the generous swell of her breasts. He wondered, for a heated moment, if he should simply take her upstairs and blow off some of this pent-up steam. The woman tilted her head, lips curving playfully as their gazes locked. She slowly got up and approached him like a lioness.
