“Aren’t you supposed toprotect—” I huff when the door closes behind him.
Two more steps follow after Victor’s steely, gruff voice, “Nobody will ever protect you likeme.Don’t fucking forget my cheeky girl.”
“That’s funny because the only person I need protection from isyou.” The snarky laugh dies in my throat. The walls surrounding me uproot themselves, squeezing in closer.
My floral shop becomes even more claustrophobic with just him and me. There’s a twinkle in Victor’s eye. I instinctively look away, hoping he can’t read me like a primary-grade picture book. Not like he had on day one. Can he tell how awful my holiday season was without him?
Clearing my throat, I ask, “Are you here to purchase my shop?”
“Yes.”
I sigh, pulling my cellphone from my pocket. “Where’s my realtor?”
“The bank vetted my funds. Also, you had a requirement, no offers from someone in the business of pitching a Starbucks or another similar franchise.”
A petty retort escapes my lips. “You’d do that just to spite me.”
“You know me, Luxury.”
There’s not a pause where I’m permitted to refute him, and the fire in his gaze ceases my attempts. A spike of longing rockets through me as our first night comes to mind.
Firstnights.
I shouldn’t have gone up to his hotel room.
I shouldn’t have stayed for three fucking days. One did the trick. Gave me enough bragging rights for the rest of my life. Two made me obsessed with him. On night three, I fell in love.Or something like that.
“Please show me around.” Victor waves a suave hand.
“Okay, Mr. Tudor.”
“Victor.” His tone takes on the same salaciousness it had while his satin tongue lapped over my erect nipples.
As if aware of the affliction agonizing me, Victor’s eyes narrow slightly. “Speaking of names, if a lad named Bartholomew comes by for whatever reason, he will be shot on sight.”
7
Victor
Icame as soon as I heard Luxury had set together a plan to bring me here. The selling of her business, the phone call, and the pretentious name of her “new lover” were all a sign. She wouldn’t relinquish Urban Gardens, the closest thing she has to her mother.
Burt caved during the ride regarding the name Bartholomew. We had a lengthy discussion about how it wasn’t a more worthy name than Burt the Butler. It didn’t hold the same pizzazz.
Now that I know she hadn’t devised a plan to arouse my jealousy over the bloke, Bartholomew, nor had she placed her shop on the market to attract my attention, I quickly make an excuse of being here to acquire her shop. I haven’t yet told Luxury that I’m a billionaire or a duke for that matter, and although she recalls my true last name, she apparently hasn’t searched me like she did Dr. Finch.
I look past that beautiful spray of freckles on her nose and into amber eyes that detest my very being. Her cute little nose scrunches up in thought. “Dad,” Luxury says in a sigh. Her curvy shape pauses, and her hand drops from her side.
The tour is over.
“Come again?” I inquire. Yes, I’m prone to petty innuendo. The second I mentioned Bartholomew,oursultry past all but bowled Luxury over.
Cum all over my face,my devilish grin seems to say.
Clearing her throat, Luxury responds. “My . . . dad put you up to this? The realtor had strongly suggested that I take any offer willing to match my—oh! Shut up, Luxury.” She huffs, then addresses me again. “I know my dad had something to do withthis.”
“Up to what?” I ask, now knowing yet anotherold blokedeceived us. I’d finally gotten a missed call from Luxury just yesterday. When I called back,Luxtexted that she wanted to see me. All evidence now points to her father, Dr. Jonah Whitson.
“Don’t play games with me, Victor,” Luxury snaps. “You haven’t called. You didn’t just drop by. I betJonahsent you a sneaky message, and now you want to come back?”