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“I…”
“Guess what? I’m not scared. I thought about it all last night when I couldn’t sleep, and I know I have all the power here. You’re in a huge pickle. The thing is, I don’t care about the money. Not one little bit. I also don’t give two shits about your organization, good or bad. You haven’t shown yourself to be trustworthy, and you haven’t done a thing to make me care about you or any of yours. You want me to come down for breakfast? Fine. You want me to sit and listen to a bunch of doody that I don’t care about? Whatever, I guess I will. But if you really, truly, want me to do anything for you, then you’re going to have to earn it. My trust, I mean, and that starts with giving me my freedom.”
Now I’m uncomfortable, and I’m the one swallowing back a sharp retort. That was pretty much the second-best thing to a ball bagging she could have given me. I don’t want her fear, but I do want her cooperation, and maybe she’s right. To get that, I should have to earn her respect. I take that about as well as a feral dog takes getting his favorite dinner bone taken away from him.
“Just don’t insult anyone or lord it over that you’re better than them, and we won’t have a problem,” I say with all the surliness of said feral dog chasing down whoever just stole his bone.
Azalea hugs her clothes to her chest and rolls her eyes. “Maybe if you had skipped the petty lectures, I could get dressed and actually make it down to breakfast this century. If you think I’m going to insult anyone or think of anyone as being ‘lesser’ than me, then you don’t know me at all.”
I guess I’m more like a bear being prodded in the butt with a sharp stick in the middle of hibernation because I feel ornery and growly. And a tad bit childish. “They’re my family by choice. I’d choose them every single time. Just so we’re clear.”
“Oh, crystal. If you meant you’d choose them over me, that’s obvious. We’re strangers, and I like you less than a stubbed toe in the middle of the night. I like you less than…than…than dropping a fresh piece of toast with a ton of jam straight onto the dirty carpet and having to pick it up and eat it like that without brushing any of the hair or lint or mung off of it. I like you less than getting kidnapped and drugged and tossed in a pool. I like you less than…than well, everything!”
Is it wrong that I can see her chest rising and falling under the blanket, and it immediately makes me think about my T-shirt, wet and plastered to her curvy body last night? Is it wrong that her snarl makes me think about how soft and pliable her lips were when I kissed her? Is it wrong that my dick is leaping up and making an obvious tent…never mind. Yes. Yes, that’s all wrong.
All very, very wrong.
How can my body react so viscerally to someone my brain doesn’t even like?
“The pool was your fault!” I splutter.
“You shouldn’t cry wolf with the drowning thing. Next time you fall in, no one is going to pull you out.”
“I think you’d pull me out every single time because you’re that good. That’s why you can’t possibly know what those men mean to me downstairs or understand the lengths I’m willing to go to get us what we need.”
Azalea doesn’t like that. Alright, so maybe I’m getting carried away. I’m letting my bruised ego do the talking for me. I don’t like the feeling I get whenever I’m around this infuriating woman. It’s like I have an itch somewhere I can’t scratch, and it’s annoying as hell. That’s what she is. A freaking dirty mosquito bite in the worst possible place. I should be using my gray matter, not my dingleberries, to make decisions right now. I should be talking a smooth game, being nice, and sucking up, as she said. I guess it’s just not in me to be fake. I have my hackles raised, and they won’t sit back down.
“Challenge motherflubbing accepted,” Azalea tosses back. She tosses her head, too, and her long, lush hair goes flying over her shoulder. “You think I’m all privileged with white picket fences, as you called it. You think that because I went to college and am working a nine-to-five job, I somehow have my head up my ass and my nose in the air. You’d be wrong about that.” Her eyes turn into mere slits. I can’t stop looking at her lips as she drops her own threats. It’s more than just a little bit hot. “I’m every bit as tough as you are. If someone wanted to mess with my family, it would be game on. I don’t think I’m better than you, but I do know that I am much more polite, and that goes a long way. A long way. So, now that we have that straight, I’ll be down for breakfast in ten minutes.” With that, she steps forward and literally slams the door in my face.
