Page 41 of The Potter

“So, you’re a control freak?”

“Freak is such a negative word,” I tsk, keeping my eyes shut. It’s easier this way. The world isn’t spinning, and I don’t have to look at Ms. Belle as she takes in the truth of who I actually am. Spoiler alert, it’s not the man in the article she cares so much about.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. Freak is a terrible word. I just meant that you like having control. In every aspect of your life?”

Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, but I take her question to specifically mean in the bedroom. “Yes.” I open my eyes and direct my gaze to where she has her lip pinned between her teeth. “Does that disappoint you?”

In my head, that came out differently. I meant that I fell into her alpha male stereotype again, but then she shakes her head ever so slightly.

Huh. So, Ms. Belle doesn’t mind a little dominant alpha in the bedroom? Interesting.

Fifteen minutes later, we’re pulling into my driveway, the alcohol settling around me in a blurry haze.

“Wow. This is classy,” Halle muses. “You live here alone?”

I cut her a look that says,do I look like I tolerate other people in my space, and press the button above her head. “Park in the garage. Try not to hit the other cars.”

“So sweet. I bet your bed stays warm at night with that kind of pillow talk.”

She’s darling. “I prefer my sheets cold and my women colder. Keeps all those pesky feelings from warming up.”

“Charming.”

“I try.”

Blessedly, Halle parks in the four-car garage without scratching the car or any of the others. “Do you think you can make it up the stairs?” she asks, getting out.

“I’ll be fine.”

I stumble on the first step, but I manage to open the door without incident, holding it until I realize she isn’t behind me but rather, still next to the car.

“I’m just going to call an Uber.” She waves goodbye like that’s happening.

“You’re not getting in a stranger’s car at this hour.” I tip my chin toward the inside of the house.

“But we have to go to work tomorrow.”

I let out a breath.What the fuck are you doing, Vance?“Exactly. We need sleep. I have a guest room. We’ll stop by your place in the morning.” Miraculously, I manage not to call it a motel.

“Oh, no. I couldn’t. I’ll be ok—”

I’m down the steps—which seem steeper than I remember—snatching the phone in her hand before heading back, throwing over my shoulder, “I have cheese puffs, too.”

I don’t wait for her to follow. She will. Without her phone, she can’t call for a ride, and I don’t live in an area where taxis frequent. The nearest neighbor is two miles away. Unless Halle wants to sleep out under the stars, she better follow me before I pass out.

I’m already pouring another drink when she finally comes in, her cheeks red and her brows furrowed. She’s adorably pissed, and my dick stirs. “Give me back my phone.”

I slide a gaze at the clenched fists at her side. “It’s on the table. Believe it or not, I’m trying to be a gentleman.” I flash her a wink. “Not a kidnapper.”

“Ha. A gentleman would never take a lady’s phone.” She’s all fire and brimstone, and I don’t fight the smile when I take a sip of bourbon. “I never said I was good at being a gentleman.”

“Isn’t that the damn truth.” She scrolls through her phone, presumably so she doesn’t have to look at me.

“Do you want a drink?” It’s the least I could do since she gave me a ride home without wrecking my car.

“No,” she storms over, “and neither do you.” Reaching for my glass, I hold it above her head, out of reach. “Vance. I’m serious. I think you’ve had enough.”

Not quite. I’m still conscious, but I don’t admit that out loud. It’s best if Ms. Belle doesn’t witness the monster coming out. Trust me, she needs me to drink a few more glasses.

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