Chapter 10 Steele #2
“Whatever,” I mutter, shifting from one foot to the other. “Let’s get this over with. I have stuff to do.”
Her brows pull tight, an exaggerated breath huffing from her pouty lips. “Asshole.”
“Brat.” Fire blazes behind her eyes at the reply.
I’d bet my entire contract that she’s envisioning me strapped to a spanking bench right now, desperate noises bursting from my lungs as she punishes me for talking back.
I know because I’m thinking the same exact thing about her, my dick twitching as I fantasize about correcting her sassy attitude.
She turns on her heel, her footfalls heavy with frustration as we head toward the building.
From the outside, it looks pretty complete, with colorful sculptures and lush greenery lining the walkways.
But as soon as we step through the doors, it’s clear that they’re still adding the finishing touches.
Translucent plastic lies draped over several pieces of furniture, likely to keep them from getting dusty before the place opens to the public.
There are a few capped wires hanging high on the walls as an electrician quietly works to install lighting fixtures.
It smells of fresh paint and new carpet, but I can almost imagine it full of children and their loved ones as they wait to be seen.
“There’s my girl,” a masculine voice echoes throughout the space, and I turn my head just as a blonde-haired man comes into view.
He looks to be about thirty, if I had to guess, and maybe about an inch or two shorter than my six-foot-one height.
Wide biceps stretch the material of his light blue dress shirt, and I’m pretty sure I hear a little bling sound when he flashes his abnormally white teeth.
Who invited the walking mouthwash commercial?
“Mitchy!” Sydney squeals, causing me to whip my gaze her way because what the fuck kind of noise is that?
And if that wasn’t out-of-character enough, the way she sprints toward him and launches herself into his waiting arms has me feeling like I’m in an alternate universe.
This sure as hell isn’t the badass domme who had me abandoning all rational thought as I crawled like a dog for her, nor is it the mouthy little hellion I saw yesterday at the Renegades office building.
“How are you, Syd?” he says, creepily pressing his nose into her hair as he holds her.
He inhales, making my face twist with disgust for a moment before I remember that I’m supposed to be on my best behavior.
Then again, I made that promise before Pleated Pants entered the chat.
Now, I kinda want to throat punch this dude and set his car on fire on my way out.
For what reason? I don’t fucking know. But the sight of him with his hands all over Sydney definitely has me wondering how I’d decorate the inside of my prison cell.
“Good,” she giggles—yes, giggles—finding the floor with her feet as he sets her down.
She looks up at him, and even though I can’t see it from where I stand, I know she’s smiling—the same way she smiled at me right before leaving our room at The Velvet Curve.
I thought maybe she’d break her rule and kiss me that night, but she didn’t, quietly walking out and leaving me wanting more.
More sex. More connection. More her.
I can’t stop my mind from wandering. How does she know this guy?
Have they fucked? Has she kissed him? He’s definitely not bad looking, but is this the type she normally goes for?
Not that it’s any of my business, but those are the thoughts screaming in my head as he grins down at her like she hung the moon.
Blood simmers in my veins the longer he takes her in, until finally, I get so annoyed that I have to break the silence.
I clear my throat as obnoxiously as I can, causing them both to turn toward me with wide eyes. Sydney snaps back to reality, shaking her head as if she’s trying to rid it of whatever impure thoughts she’s having about Country Club Ken over there.
“Oh,” she croaks, clearing her throat. “Mitch, this is Steele Harlow. Steele, Doctor Mitchell Bennett.”
Of course he’s a doctor…for children. I bet he has a perfect credit score and spends his free time knitting sweaters for homeless kittens.
“Hey, Steele,” he says as he moves toward me. “It’s nice to meet you.”
I swallow the annoyance that rises in my throat, begrudgingly taking the hand he’s extended between us. I can feel Sydney’s eyes burning a hole through me as I do, so I muster up a fraction of a smile, jerking my chin tightly in greeting. “You, too.”
I’m not sure if he’s faking the whole nice guy bit, but the exaggerated simper he shoots back rubs me the wrong fucking way. I promised to be good, though, so I keep that particular thought to myself, avoiding Sydney altogether because I’m afraid that she’ll see through me.
“Perfect.” Mitch beams, his eyes bouncing back and forth between us. “I thought we’d start with the short-term care floor and work our way up. Unfortunately, the elevators haven’t gone through final inspections, so we’ll have to use the stairs. Follow me.”
Trapped in a stairwell with Sydney Grant and Richie Bitch?
Can’t wait.