Page 40 of A Worthy Opponent
“For fuck’s sake.” I stalk to the fridge and yank out the first thing I find—orange juice. I pour a second glass of it and pass it over while she watches me with wide eyes. When she doesn’t immediately drink, I give her the look, the one primarily reserved for Dominants when their submissive has pushed back too hard and is edging over into disrespect.
Tink drinks the orange juice.
When it’s halfway gone, she sets the glass aside. Her voice has lost its hoarseness. “You say you hate what he did, but here you are, squatting in his territory.”
“It’smyterritory now.”
“That’s exactly my point.” She waves a hand. “You’re occupying the same space he did. If you really loathed everything he and your father did, why didn’t you leave? You could have gotten out. Your trying to getmeout proves it. But you chose to stay, and you chose to fight him and take his place.”
The truth is there, edging my tongue. Speaking it means peeling away parts of myself I never show anyone. Oh, Nigel and Colin get pieces of me no one else does because they’re the kind of family a person actually craves, rather than one linked by miserable accident of blood. I got lucky with them. Everyone else?
I’ve seen what this world does to people who expose their vulnerable centers. I might respect the hell out of Tink, but I don’t trust her. She only accepted my bargain because she has nowhere else to turn. She didn’t chooseme. For the last five years, she’s been pretty damn clear that she never would if she had another option.
I take my vodka as a shot and don’t bother to flinch. “I need you on my side, Tink. If not behind closed doors, thenin public. You need something, you tell me. As long as it’s reasonable, I’ll do my best to make it happen. You pissed at me? You wait until we’re up here to rip me a new one. I cannot have you threatening my people and ignoring my orders out there.” I jerk my chin at the elevator.
I expect her to yell, to snark, to do anything but look at me as if I’m a math equation that she can’t quite puzzle out. “I don’t understand you.”
The problem is that she understands me all too well. She’s right. Icouldhave gotten out. I could have convinced Nigel and Colin to come with me and blown out of Carver City without looking back. Even now, we could be holding down normal jobs that don’t stain our souls and worrying about 401ks or whatever the fuck normal people worry about.
I didn’t. I chose to stay with eyes wide open. I knew exactly the price it would extract from me, and I decided it was worth the cost. Peter had to go, had to pay for his sins, and then there were too many people who looked to me to lead. Walking away meant abandoning a whole territory where I was suddenly sure I could make a difference. Arrogant? Delusional? I still don’t know the answer to that. “You don’t have to understand me. Just agree to keep shit behind closed doors.”
She looks away, a faint blush coloring her cheeks, and I can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or embarrassment. “I’m sorry about earlier. You’re right. I shouldn’t have drawn a knife on him.”
I clap slowly, mostly to break the tension of our fight. “So itcanbe done.”
“Shut up.”
“I’m just saying.”
“Yeah, well, say something else.”
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
She blinks. “That’s not what I meant.”
I know, but I never did like playing by the rules. I shrug. “It’s the truth. The first time I saw you, I tripped over my feet like an asshole.”
“I don’t remember that.”
No, she wouldn’t. It had been where Peter held court. It must have been a week or two after he got to her, because it was the first time he’d brought her out publicly and claimed her for himself. She stood at his side, a foot or so behind him, her hands clasped in front of her, her head bowed. “You had on a hideous white dress that covered you from neck to wrists and looked like it had to be held for you to manage to walk.”Probably so she couldn’t run away, I think darkly.
“I hated that dress,” Tink murmurs, looking at me like she’s never seen me before. She opens her mouth and seems to reconsider whatever she was about to say, because she closes it without continuing.
“Whatever you just thought—say it.”
Finally, she says, “If you were that affected by me then…” A line appears between her brows, but she’s not glaring at me, exactly. It almost seems like she’s pissed at herself. “I don’t look like that anymore.”
Now it’s my turn to blink. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m fat.” She motions at her body as if I haven’t spent far too many hours fantasizing about exploring every inch of her.
“Okay,” I say slowly. “What’s your point?”
“I wasn’t then. If you wanted me then—”
Realization washes over me, and I might laugh if I didn’t think she’d lob her glass right at my head for doing it. “I want you. That’s the sum of it. You were gorgeous when we met, and you’re gorgeous now.” I almost don’t continue, but she still has the tiniest bit of vulnerability lingering around the edges. “You’re sexier now. You’ve…” I consider how to put it into words. “You know who you are now. That confidence, that attitude, the drive. It’s fucking devastating.”
I step closer and grip her hips, ignoring her narrowed eyes. “That might sound like I want you despite the package, but youarethe package, Tink. If you think I haven’t jacked myself thinking about your ass, your thighs, your tits,you, then you’re out of your damn mind.”
