“Hey, Chase,” Tucker calls from the office. “Someone here for you.”
“Open her up,” I nod. Tucker hits the button and the motor whines as the door cranks open to reveal the nicest set of legs I’ve ever seen in my life. I know before I can see the rest of her, it’s Nicky.
For a split second, I consider turning around, walking away and letting Tucker deal with it. No. I chew my lip and stand there as the door opens all the way and reveals her fully, standing there in a slim pair of black jeans and my t-shirt tied high around her waist. She’s even wearing a belly chain.
Fuck.
There’s no hope of stopping the instant shot of blood to my cock, making it twitch inside my jeans. A breeze wafts her perfume into my nose and I brace myself against her fiancé’s car as she walks toward me, her hips making my mind explode with thoughts of how fertile she must be.
I want to fuck her brains out. But I also want to slap her for fucking me over like that. I never would, of course, but as she stops in front of me, I don’t know whether to listen to what she has to say, or just toss her the keys and tell her to get the fuck out.
“There he is,” she smiles, her plump lips pulling my eyes to them. “Mr. Tough Guy.”
“Come to rub it in?” I ask angrily. “Where’s Bradley? Or is his nose still swollen from that right hook I gave him?”
“You still don’t get it, do you?” she asks, cocking her head to one side.
Get it? What the fuck is she talking about?
I glance over at the office and see Tucker watching out the window like this is an episode of reality TV.
“Oh, I get it all right,” I scoff. “You thought it would be fun to have a little fling with the local guy and tell all your rich friends about the time you went slummin’ once.”
The next look she gives me is impossible to read. She steps closer to me, close enough that I can feel her heat. My body reacts, and despite my anger, my cock swells in my pants, pressing against the inside of my zipper.
Oh, I could hate-fuck her right now. For sure.
“For someone so skilled with mechanics, you sure are dumb when it comes to women.”
Yup. Total hate-fuck.
She’s all dolled up too, her make-up, her hair. It’s all on point and must have taken forever. Hell, she probably had her own personal make-up artist do it for her this morning.
“Listen, princess. If you’ve got something to say—”
“Ruth wants me to marry Bradley,” she interrupts. “I told you that.”
“Right, the arranged marriage,” I nod. “Yeah, you sure looked really unhappy.”
My words seem to bounce right off her, she just continues on unfazed.
“If I don’t marry Bradley, then Ruth will cut me off. I’ll have nothing.”
“Aw, then you could be like the rest of us!” I laugh.
“No, Chase,” she says firmly, getting right up in my face. “I’ll have nothing. All my money is under her control. She blew through our inheritance after my father died, and if she can’t get me to marry Bradley, then she’s going to go broke.”
“Well, it looks like you’ve got that all under control,” I tell her. “Why don’t I get you the keys to his car?”
I try to go, but she grabs me by the arm and pulls me back around.
“I asked you to dinner so I could see what you were really made of, Chase.”
“To see if I could kick your fiancé’s ass?” I snap. “What the—”
“To see if you were serious about me!” she replies. “Because if I leave him for you, and you’re just a fucking player, then I end up homeless without a penny to my name. Do you understand!?”
Her words wash over me like a cool wave of realization and I feel a sudden clarity come over me. Could she be telling the truth? Was last night just one big shit-test? She has no reason to lie now – unless she’s a completely cruel sociopath who just wants to continue to torture me…