Chapter 3 The Duke #3
“You could just say, ‘thank you for mentioning that, but it won’t be necessary,’” I retorted.
“I see I’ve offended you,” he murmured, and I’d always thought brown eyes were warm and gentle, but this guy managed to make his condescending and haughty.
“This is what I do for a living, Your Grace. I’m proud of doing it. So, you saying,” I mimicked his forceful, “‘hell no’ at being offered an acknowledgement, uh, yeah, that’s offensive. Most people think an acknowledgement is an honor.”
“I only meant to say that’s not necessary. And my name is Battle.”
I ignored the invite to call him by his Christian name and retorted, “Well, as I just said, you could have said that.”
He sighed before he requested, “Allow me to understand what’s happening here.
We were at an impasse, one that was rather calamitous for you.
I offered a compromise as a solution to our differences, which would allow you to write the book you’ve been contracted to write.
And now you haven’t addressed my suggested compromise because you’re angry I don’t want an acknowledgement I don’t deserve because I won’t be contributing to your writing, simply approving if the direction you’re going works for the Talyn legacy. ”
Ulk.
It stunk that he was right in pointing out I was being unreasonable.
He was still kind of a dick.
I shifted to the matter at hand.
“I’ve never written that way,” I told him. “But it would be vastly preferrable to completing the project and having you nix it.”
“Then we’re agreed,” he said with strained patience.
“I guess,” I replied.
“Excellent. Shall I have my solicitors draw it up?”
“Can we agree that this verbal agreement holds while that’s happening so I can get to work tomorrow?”
He shook his head and crossed his arms on his chest. “Unnecessary. They’ll have the agreement ready before dinner. Simply meet me here, you can sign, and I’ll escort you to cocktails.”
If they could pull that off, one could say his attorneys worked fast.
“I’ll have to read it,” I warned.
“As it’ll probably be a single page, I doubt that will take long.”
“If there’s something fishy, I’ll want my agent to look over it.”
He let out a beleaguered breath. “There won’t be anything fishy about it, Vivienne.”
Oh Lord.
That purr gliding over my name?
It was the single most beautiful thing to ever hit my ears.
Shit.
“Okay, fine. We have an agreement,” I conceded.
He uncrossed his arms and offered me his hand to shake, stating, “Brilliant.”
Considering I passed out when I first laid eyes on him, I was more than a little scared to touch him.
I did it anyway, putting my hand in his, watching and feeling his long, strong fingers curl around, annnnnnnnnnd…
Yep.
An electric pulse shot up my arm from our connection, exploding at my shoulder and scattering deliciously across my back, neck and chest.
Fortuitously, I didn’t slide into unconsciousness at the contact, but this was partly because he broke our connection, his focus on our hands, his brows inching together in confusion, like he felt it too.
“I think now, I should go lay down for a little while,” I whispered like I couldn’t talk louder (and I couldn’t because…what the hell was going on?).
“I believe that’s for the best.”
He shifted, and since I didn’t, he raised his arm for me to precede him, so I did.
I also tried to salvage this situation by saying, “I appreciate you coming up with a compromise.”
Under his breath, he replied, “If I was a diarist, I’d tally this as one of the few instances a female could agree to such a thing, albeit not without some headache.”
And thus, I stopped dead. “Pardon me?”
His patronizing brown eyes came to mine. “We have a détente, Vivienne. It’s lasted all of two minutes. How about we nurture it for a bit longer?”
“A good way to do that is not to mutter about women not being able to compromise. We can compromise.”
His wide, burgundy-cashmere-sweater-covered chest expanded before he released another beleaguered sigh.
All right.
What was I doing?
This was my host.
Sure, he was kind of an asshole, but I was going to be living under his roof, eating his food, reading all about his family history, and he’d come up with a doable compromise so I wouldn’t be thrown into a career tailspin that would have my agent and editor hunting me down to strangle me.
“Okay, yes, you’re right,” I said swiftly. “Détente, Duke.”
He scowled at me, and let me tell you, the man could scowl.
It was gorgeous, and petrifying.
“You could fortify that by calling me by my bloody name,” he said.
“Of course,” I mumbled.
“Are you always this disagreeable?” he asked irately.
I opened my mouth to retort.
Then I closed it.
He watched my mouth doing that, something I hoped he never did again because my nipples liked it way too much.
And then he said, “Good idea.”
Uh-oh.
My mouth again opened immediately to retort.
His gaze came to mine, and I didn’t miss the dare in his eyes.
This is my host. This is my host. This is my host!
I shut my mouth again.
Luckily, he didn’t gloat.
Instead, he indicated the smart unit on his desk and said, “You can intercom me when you’re ready for dinner. I’ll have the agreement ready for your perusal and signature.”
“Perfect.”
“Indeed.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Did you carry me to the couch?”
His head ticked before he replied, “I thought it better than leaving you lying on the floor.”
I was never eating another dessert again.
“Well, thank you for that too,” I said, and I felt badly, because even I could hear it was begrudgingly.
His beautiful mouth moved, and I watched in no small amount of fascination, because his mouth was beautiful, but also because I thought he might smile.
He didn’t.
He prompted, “You were going to rest before dinner?”
“Right,” I muttered.
“Until then, Vivienne.”
My purred name again.
God!
I just waved.
And got the hell out of there.