Page 22 of Wicked

The brute eyes me.

“No doubt a more savory action than the duties of the quim!”

As the smug grump eats, I decide to look up quim later. As I watch him out of the corner of my eye, I determine he is gorgeous. It is just a shame he’s so darned arrogant and rude.

What is also odd is the fact he’s dressed like he’s walked straight out of a time machine. That is, unless his job requires traditional old-fashioned clothes, like he works in a theme park or something.

“So, I’m guessing you’re a caretaker?” I say, leaning back and eyeing him over coffee.

“You could say that” he says with a smug grin.

I try to clear the air. “Well, thank you for yesterday. And not taking… liberties.”

Not that I would have minded, I think, now chewing on my bottom lip.

The grump licks jam from his lip, and his reply is cold. “Call me old-fashioned, but I do not claim maidens in distress.”

Who on earth uses the word maiden? I give him an evil glare, and I decide I hate every arrogant cell of him. I decide to mess with him in some of my own old English, my literature degree useful for once. Smarmy peasant.

“You, sir, are found wanting.”

The rogue gives me a mischievous look, and he licks jam off his sinful lip. “And you, dear woman, are likely in need of a good spanking.”

My mouth drops open, and I am lost for words. I blush, desperate to find something clever to say. “And your bloodline is, well … common, I say.”

Dante laughs loud, and he laughs long. “I wish.”

What the hell does that mean? Just when I’m planning a stunning retort, he stands and bows.

“Good day, milady!” And with that, he leaves.

I cannot understand how he can push all my buttons so fast, and I don’t like it. The weird thing is, I’m turned on, and my clit throbs.

I type quim into my cell, and my eyes pop. It means women’s genitals. Had he really meant it best my day is spent writing instead of me playing with my clit?Arrogant, smug bastard.

I’m about to head to my suite, well, his suite, when I hear a door open and close out the window. I lean out the window, and I see the rogue at his Range Rover below.

“The gent is a rascal! A rascal, I say.”

The rogue turns, eye fucks me for three long seconds and then races off. Slamming the window, I sit. My heart pounds, and I work hard to find calm. If I stay, he will throw me off my writing. There is no way that can happen! No way in hell!

10

DANTE

Her question in the bathroom last night has thrown me, even if she was out of it. Have I ever had sex with someone I’ve been in love with?

How dare she?

In reality, there are three things I do well in the world: building fashion labels, identifying design talent, and making women come. I have taken pleasure in all three, and I still do with two.

I claimed way too many women in the day, and I am making a huge effort to control myself. I’ve never had trouble bedding women, but sex became boring.

I bore fast when it is not earth breaking.

I have also given up on finding the one, and maybe that relates to her ridiculous question.

As I move around the castle and understand the tasks at hand, I use the notebook I was given. It has good detail within, and I plan what I want to do each day for the next week.

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