Chapter 7 #2
Even pissed off, she was stunning. She’d done something different with her makeup than the first time I’d seen her.
It was more subtle, less emo and more corporate goth.
Her hair was curled into dark waves. The black dress she wore fell to just above her knees, cinched tight at the waist by some strappy leather contraption that looked like it could double as a bondage prop.
Her knee-high, heeled boots added several inches to her already towering height, and I was sure she was trying to be intimidating, but she was so beautiful that it was backfiring.
A smoking hot woman with her entire focus trained on me? Yes, please.
She paused a foot away from the table, glaring.
I grinned at her. “Nice outfit. You cosplaying as one of Dracula’s rejected brides?”
She shot me a withering look. “I came dressed for your funeral.”
“And how are you planning to do away with me?”
She tilted her head to the side. “I’m currently torn between driving masonry nails into your eyeballs or dousing you in kerosene and throwing matches at you until you catch.”
I winked at her. “So what you’re saying is you’ve spent a lot of time thinking about me.”
She opened her mouth to respond, but our waiter suddenly appeared at her side. “Good evening,” he said, his warm smile oblivious to the tension. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Just water,” Stella said. “I’m not staying.”
The waiter’s eyebrows twitched upward before he schooled his features. “I’ll be right back with that.”
Reluctantly, Stella slid into the booth across from me.
Our eyes met over the table.
Well, this was a mistake. Because Stella lit by candlelight? Breathtaking.
She’s your enemy, I reminded myself. She’s everything you hate about the rich.
I leaned back and used the excuse of sipping my wine to give myself a few seconds to regroup. Stella’s eyes remained trained on me the whole time, her shoulders held in a tense line like she was waiting for me to lunge across the table.
Time to get this ugly conversation over with.
“Your brother owes me three million dollars,” I said.
She inhaled sharply, expression furious. “So that whole tattoo consultation, that was what? A setup to taunt me? Threaten me?”
“No, actually. I planned to tell you then, but your coworker ruined my fun.”
“Fun,” she deadpanned, her eyes dropping to my lips, the kiss an unspoken four-letter word hanging between us.
Oh, so she wanted to pretend like it hadn’t happened? Over my dead body. That ugly need to prove myself was crawling up the back of my throat again, and if I had to constantly relive the kiss in my head, then so would she.
I ran my gaze over her, slower this time, and sunk a little smolder into my voice. “I think you had plenty of fun, too.”
Red swept over her cheeks, visible even through her makeup. “Temporary insanity.”
I laughed, low and humorless. “Tell yourself whatever you want, but nothing will erase the sound of you moaning into my mouth after I called you a dirty little—”
The waiter reappeared with her water, his carefully blank expression telling me that he was definitely aware of the tension now. He set the glass down and pulled out a small notepad. “Would you like to hear the specials?”
“No,” Stella said.
“Yes,” I countered.
He looked between us, hesitating.
I waved him on. “Please, proceed.”
He started rattling off dishes, each sounding more delicious than the last. I kept my eyes on him while he spoke, but in my periphery, I could see Stella glaring at me like a thundercloud.
My, my, my, the shoe was on the other foot now, and it felt good to be the one who was calm and collected while she was barely holding it together.
“I’ll have the chicken scallopine,” I said when the waiter was finished.
He turned toward Stella, looking like he was bracing himself. “Anything for you?”
“No,” she bit out.
“We’ll take some bread for the table,” I said. “Just in case she gets peckish.”
The waiter nodded.
“I won’t,” she said, but he was already turning away. She let out a frustrated huff and refixed her gaze on me. “Men are so easy to hate sometimes.”
“Oh?” I said, leaning back in my seat.
“I told you two that I wanted nothing, and you both ignored me.”
I grinned. “Maybe we just know better.”
The fingers of her left hand curled around her butter knife.
Now was probably the time to stop trolling her.
For my plan to work, she needed to play along, and it would be easier to get her to agree if I stopped giving her reasons to hate me.
But goddamn, was it a thrill to rile her up.
She was so easy, so responsive. It made me wonder if she’d be that way in the bedroom, too.
“So,” I said. “About the three million Blake owes me.”
“He doesn’t owe you anything,” she shot back.
I arched a brow. “Yes, he does.”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes. And Stella? I’m an only child and a Taurus. I can do this all night.”
Her expression darkened. “He’s twenty years old.”
“So?”
“He’s too young to gamble.”
“Legally.” I leaned forward, dropping my voice like I was sharing a secret. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but the games I run aren’t exactly . . . aboveboard.”
Her expression turned feisty, mouth puckering in a way that drew my gaze. Her lips were painted a glossy cherry red that would look incredible wrapped around my cock. Goddamn it, I really needed to stop thinking about all the ways I could fuck her.
“That doesn’t change the fact that he’s too young to know better,” she said. “Especially because you got him drunk.”
My grin slipped. “First off, he’s twenty, not twelve, and attending one of the most prestigious colleges in the country while maintaining an impressive GPA, so stop pretending like he’s some innocent little lamb I took advantage of.
Second, I didn’t force him to do anything.
It’s house policy to keep the alcohol flowing because it’s good for business.
No one held a gun to his head and made him drink it. ”
She blinked. “How do you know so much about him? About us?”
Ah, so she’d picked up on the fact that I’d done my research.
“I make it my business to learn as much about my clients as possible. Because we’re not aboveboard, some people think that means they don’t have to pay their debts.
That they can threaten to go to the cops and report my operation to get me to back off.
Let’s just say, having some ammunition against them has been to my benefit. ”
A frisson of something slipped into her expression—worry, or maybe fear—there one second and gone the next. When she spoke, her voice was steady, belying what she felt. “Blake can’t pay it. He doesn’t have that kind of money.”
Which I already knew.
I leaned back in my seat, draping one arm across the top of the booth as I studied her.
Fuck, she was gorgeous. Not just because of the flawless skin and pouty lips.
There was something about her features that made you want to stare at her, like your brain was stuck trying to figure out why, exactly, she was so stunning.
I comforted myself with the knowledge that I wasn’t the only one distracted by her beauty. People had noticed her entrance and were still sneaking surreptitious glances from nearby tables. A passing busboy almost tripped over his own feet when he caught sight of her.
Maybe that’s why I felt the need to be even more of a dick to Stella than usual: it was self-protection. A way to keep distance between us when all I wanted to do was close it.
Why were the most beautiful people always the worst human beings?
“But Blake will have that money, eventually,” I said.
Her expression shut down even more. “In, like, five years, at the soonest. Can you wait that long to be repaid?”
“No.”
“Then why don’t you do the right thing and forgive his debt?”
I set my wineglass down before I shattered it, looking out into the restaurant while I tried to get ahold of myself.
My temper had bubbled up like a flash boil, and the urge to lash out was so strong, I almost couldn’t resist it.
The fucking nerve of this woman. Asking me to do the “right thing” so her brother wouldn’t have to take responsibility for his own actions.
Here was my proof that she was exactly who I thought she was.
That she’d learned nothing from her own monumental fuckups.
That no matter what facade she presented to the outside world, beneath it she was nothing but a spoiled rich girl who’d gotten away with her horrible, uber-privileged, life-shattering behavior because Mommy and Daddy were always there to step in and save her.
And now she was trying to do the same thing for her brother, ensuring the cycle would continue.
Abso-fucking-lutely not.
“The right thing,” I repeated, dragging my eyes back to her.
She nodded. “Forgive his debt.”
I gave her another moment to realize what she was asking, what a double standard it was, but her expression remained stubbornly determined, and I finally lost my temper.
“No,” I snarled.
“This could ruin his life,” she said.
“Maybe it should ruin his life. Maybe then he’d finally learn what the rest of us already know: that there are consequences for our actions.”
She pulled a face. “What are you talking about? My brother knows all about consequences. He watched—” She cut herself off, taking a deep breath as she seemed to think better of what she’d been about to say.
“My brother has never stepped a toe out of line before this. He’s never so much as gotten a B minus. ”
I scoffed. “You expect me to believe that? That he really was an innocent little lamb right up until he threw away three million dollars? Be so fucking for real, Stella.”
“Hey,” she said, leaning over the table to glare at me.
“I am being real. He’s a good kid. And na?ve because he’s been so sheltered.
His long-term boyfriend recently broke his heart.
Blake was an emotional wreck, and his stupid frat boy friends dragged him to your party to blow off steam, where you took advantage of his vulnerable emotional state.
So yeah, in this instance, I think the right thing, the decent thing, would be to forgive his debt. ”
I shook my head, unmoved by her sob story because I’d heard a million of them before.
Everyone always had an excuse for their behavior.
A reason they shouldn’t have to pay, why they were the exception to the rule.
If my mother had taught me anything, it was that people saw kindness as weakness.
So, no, I never forgave anyone’s debt. Because I knew that if I did, I’d be inundated with endless requests.
Worse, word would get around I’d gone soft, and someone would seize the opportunity to try to steal my business.
The waiter arrived with the bread and began to place it in front of Stella.
She snapped at him. Literally bit the air like a feral cat.
He dropped the basket and fled without a word.
“Was that called for?” I drawled.
“Yes,” she said, unapologetic.
We went back to eyeing each other across the table. I needed her to trust me, at least a little, for my plan to work, which meant it was time to stop toying with her and get down to business.
I leaned forward and dropped my voice. “I’m not decent. So, no, I’m not going to forgive Blake’s debt.”
Her brown eyes darkened with hostility. “Then I’ll just go to the cops and tell them what you did.”
“No, you won’t,” I said, calling her bluff. “The cops like you as little as you do them. There’s no way you’d blow up your baby brother’s life like that, and your family can’t afford another scandal.”
The color drained from her face.
I winked at her. “Like I said, I’ve done my research. But I’m not entirely heartless”—a blatant lie—“so I’ll tell you what. I’m willing to transfer Blake’s debt to you instead.”
She fell back in her seat, eyes wide, skin even paler than a moment ago. “You what?”
“I’ll let you take on Blake’s debt,” I repeated, because Stella looked like she might be in shock.
She stared at me, her expression shifting as her thoughts whirred. I could practically see the internal war she fought, the need to protect her brother battling it out with self-preservation.
“I can’t pay either,” she said.
“Already blew through your inheritance?”
“It’s tied up elsewhere.”
Which I’d guessed from the way she led her life, no longer spending huge amounts of cash on frivolities, but I had to play dumb; I’d already revealed enough of what I knew for one night. “Then find a way to free it up.”
She shook her head. “I can’t. But . . .” Her gaze slid away from me, toward the door, a tell that she was feeling trapped and her subconscious was looking for a way to escape. With a heavy sigh, she forced her eyes back to mine. “I’ll do it. I’ll take on his debt.”
Just like I knew she would.
A wave of something close to disappointment rolled through me. It had been so easy to lead her into this trap. I was almost sad it hadn’t taken longer. Next time I blackmailed someone, I should drag it out more, savor the kill.
“How do you plan to pay it off?” I asked.
“In installments?” she said.
“I have a better idea. Date me instead.”