Page 9 of Fake Crown

I have to admit as I size up her willowy frame and wide smile that I’d be okay with rubbing her in all the right ways too.

She might have a point about me leading with my dick. But if my vow to forget relationships and focus on my training is going to stick, I can’t change my superficial ways. Until I’m done with my Olympic appearances, I’m married to my sport, and everyone else comes second. At least Valentina understood she couldn’t and wouldn’t come first.

When it’s our turn to grab a cab, she waves to her newest friends before slipping into the back seat. She lets me and the cab driver get her bag without a second glance. Even that feels contrived for maximum annoyance, as though she realizes the diva behavior will cause me to grit my teeth.

I fold myself into the cab beside her, and she glances in my direction. Probably expecting a comment about her prissy attitude.

As the cab swings away from the curb, I take a look out the back window. “Man, I would have thought you’d want your bag. Do they still call the bomb squad for abandoned stuff at the airport?”

She doesn’t look behind us. “You know, if you want me to play games when Val shows up, you might have to be just a little bit nice to me.” She presents her index and thumb with the tiniest space between them.

“Me? You tricked me into believing you were a guy.”

“You assumed. That’s not on me.”

“But you rode that assumption hard.”

She gives me a once over from head to toe. “I enjoy a good, hard ride.”

Jesus. I’ve met women who were upfront with what they wanted before, but there’s something about Posey’s brand of wickedness that’s landing exactly where she intends. Her outfit and her attitude have me standing at attention. I shift in my seat and break eye contact.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m definitely the type of girl who will blow…your mind.” She stifles a laugh.

This time my answering chuckle is genuine and colored with a hint of embarrassment. The cab driver is listening. The sexual innuendos pile on top of each other with this girl. “There’s a time and place.”

“The time is now. The place is here. Your point?”

I huff out a breath. “You can cut the act. I know this isn’t how you are around other people. I saw you with your seatmates at the airport.”

“This is exactly how I am with people I’m not sure I like.”

“You don’t know me. What’s not to like?” This time I’m the one who drags my gaze from her dangling heel to her wavy hair. “I know you enjoy the look of me.”

“Because I’m not blind.” She crosses her arms. “You’re not what I expected. Too shallow.”

She’s got to be kidding me. “Says the girl who follows my ex for photos of my half-naked body.”

“Sometimes it was more like three quarters. She knew how to work an angle.”

“Posey, you sound insane right now. Do you get that?”

The cab driver eases through the pillars in the circular front entrance and brings the car to a stop. “Hamilton Princess.” He jumps out to retrieve our bags from the trunk.

Behind the car, I take out my wallet and pass him the fare with a substantial tip. A porter offers to take our bags, but both of us have duffels. Without Posey asking, I shift her bag into the same hand as mine. At least she packed light.

At our check-in, I request a switch from a king-size-bed suite to a two-bed one. The receptionist clicks through and confirms she can make the switch. I breathe a sigh of relief. Posey is off to the side with both our bags at her feet. She’s texting someone, and I need to remember to tell her about the social media ban on the wedding.

The whole time I’m answering and asking questions with the receptionist, Posey’s comment about me not being who she expected pierces my consciousness like sharp pinpricks. I’m shallow? In the elevator, she’s quiet as we ride to our floor. Somehow her silence grates on me even more.

“You know,” I say as soon as we’re in the door to our room. “You thought you were spending a weekend with a misogynistic jerk, so the fact that I’m not what you thought I’d be should be an improvement.”

She purses her lips as she riffles through the pamphlets and brochures left on top of the table. “Agreed. It really should be.”

I throw up my hands. “Whatever.” My temptation is to ignore her, but when she goes to the window to stare out at the view of the harbor, I’m enticed by her lonely silhouette. My arm brushes against hers when I sidle next to her.

She glances up at me, and I’m caught off guard when the air in the room electrifies. She might not like me, but she definitely wants me.