Page 20 of Mexico Can Choke On It
I want to dive into that twinkle and live there forever.
Because here’s the thing:
I’ve always known how to get under Bryce Sterling’s skin.
I used to think if I poked him enough—teased, flirted, dropped an inappropriate joke or ten—he’d stop seeing me as Gavin’s annoying shadow and see me as something more.
He didn’t.
Focus on the task, Petra.Hand over these stupid cufflinks, make a semi-graceful exit, and then find the nearest hole to crawl into for… I don’t know… ever. Seriously, being around this man makes my brain go berserk in ways that should be studied by scientists.
Bryce stops outside a heavy-looking door that blends into the wall so perfectly I almost walk past it. He holds out his palm expectantly. “I can handle the delivery from here.”
“Nope. I’m already late because my car got arrested. Gavin’s got this whole thing aboutpersonal responsibility.I need to hand these over or he’ll think I’m flaking again.”
“I could explain—”
“You clearly don’t know the full extent of my fuckup history.”
He sighs. “Stay here. I’ll track him down.”
“Sure thing, Moneybags.”
“I mean it, Pip.” His eyes narrow. “Don’t. Move.”
I cock my hip and smirk. “If you want to handcuff me right here and now, I support that kink.”
For a glorious second… he blushes.
If I were keeping score—and mentally, I am—I’ve bagged a grin, a twinkle, and a blush all in one night. The microsecond when his control slips and the honest version of him emerges from behind the Sterling family crest is highly addictive.
Seriously, what are you doing? Stop flirting with him. You know it’s hopeless.
He clears his throat, adjusts his bow tie, and disappears through the door. Beautiful chamber music filters in from the adjoining room.
God, he looks…Unfair.
That tux isn’t just fitted—it’s a freaking exoskeleton, engineered by fashion sorcerers with doctorates in Making Bryce Sterling Look Like a Golden God Among Mortals. And the way he moves—measured, precise, as if every molecule in his body knows exactly what to do.
If confidence had a scent, it would smell like him. Expensive. Sharp. And completely untouchable.
I glance down at myself and immediately wish I hadn’t.Ugh.The idea of me in his world?
Laughable.
He has me stashed behind a door like the help he forgot to tip. Not even allowed to step inside with the real guests. As though I’m too wild, too messy, too damn…meto be seen.
The music crescendos with a violin solo so intense, I swear the instrument is having an extended orgasm. I check my phone. 8:07.Shit.I’m late for my bartending gig. Julio is going to have my ass. I fire off a text:
Me:Stuck in Beverly HELLS. Be there soon.
I exhale, letting the wall take some of the weight off my feet. My shoulder bumps something.
CLICK!
A small panel slides open, like something straight out of a Scooby-Doo episode.
A peephole.
