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Now that I had my answer, I was annoyed. But what did I expect to happen? There was no answer she would give that would make me feel better about the others before me.

“So I’m not very experienced,” she said. “At least, not more than most.”

It seemed like it.

She squeezed the water out of her hair again. “Is the interrogation over?”

I ignored the irritation in her voice. “Was never meant to be an interrogation.”

“If you learned to talk to people the correct way, people would open up to you.”

I didn’t want to take the time to learn. I just wanted my answers immediately.

She left the shower running and stepped out and grabbed a towel. Her ass was perky, and her thighs were toned. I wanted to trail my fingers up and down the back of her leg, to feel the smoothness of her skin. She patted her hair dry before she dried her hair with a blow-dryer and moisturized her skin.

I stayed in the shower and watched her discreetly, taking in every inch of her luscious curves. Her beauty captured my attention, but everything underneath her skin was more fascinating to me. Her feistiness never waned, and she always fought for self-respect even if I insulted her. Most of the women I dealt with were timid and shy. I could push them around all I wanted because they never stood up to me. Josephine was like that.

London never was.

That opposition should annoy me, but it didn’t. I respected a woman who respected herself. I was aroused by the fire that constantly burned behind her eyes. The only time she was compliant was when my commands turned sexual. She didn’t have a problem following orders then.

Because she liked it.

The two of us had very little in common, but our chemistry was scorching. I liked the fact that she needed me once in a while. The rest of the time, she handled herself. She wasn’t a damsel in distress. She barely needed me for anything.

It was a nice change.

Seeing Josephine crawl back to me and admit she made a mistake was a major turn-off. I never fantasized about her coming back to me, and I respected her less because of it. She traded in my love for royalty—because I wasn’t good enough.

Fuck her.

If any man ever earned London’s love, they must have truly deserved it. She wasn’t easy to impress. There was nothing a man could give her that she couldn’t give herself. Independent and strong, she was perfect. After she was captured, she still fought me tooth and nail. Anyone else would have sobbed all day and night, but she never shed a tear.

She was tough as steel.

Dunbar texted me. We’re ready for you, sir.

I shoved my phone into my pocket and walked into the bedroom. London was sitting on the couch reading a book. She never watched TV or read the magazines my men brought for her. She had a very specific way of entertaining herself. “We’re leaving.”

She finished the paragraph she was reading before she gave me her attention. “For good?”

“Just for the afternoon. Come on.” I was in my jeans and t-shirt today since I had no meetings. I’d hit my private gym and went for a run along the countryside road before London had woken up that morning.

“I’m not a dog.” She snapped the book shut. “Where are we going?”

“Shopping. There’s a Valentino studio in Florence.”

“A Valentine what?”

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised she didn’t recognize designer clothing. She was too absorbed in school to care about fashion. “We need to get you a gown for the opening in a few weeks.” I never had to repeat myself so many times with other people. Anytime London and I spoke, our argument just went around and around.

“You’re taking me to your distillery opening?” she asked in surprise.

“Yes. Now get your ass up so we can go.”

She finally stood up. “Why are you taking me?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“I’m not good for this sort of thing.”

“You did find at the Holyrood celebration.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I hardly said a word, and I stuck to your side the entire time. I wasn’t much company.”

“I like a quiet woman.” I grinned because I knew that would piss her off.

And it did. “Interesting. I like a silent man.”

I loved her comebacks. “I’m not taking you for your conversational skills. I’m taking you because you look absolutely gorgeous—clothed or unclothed.”

The compliment didn’t affect her like my other ones did. “Take someone else, Crewe. I don’t want to go.”

Both of my eyebrows rose at her disobedience. “I don’t recall giving you a say in the matter.” Did I need to pull out the transmitter and remind her what was at stake? That I could kill her brother with the press of my thumb?

“Look, I don’t want to go. Take someone who would truly enjoy the evening and your company.”

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