I’m only mildly offended by her comment.
“No one else thinks so. I’m the nicest Constantine there is.”
Her gaze briefly flits to mine, those blue eyes extra icy. “Then the rest of your family must be dreadful.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” I readily agree.
“I don’t want to know.” She looks away as if she’s done with the conversation, but I know she’s not.
“Yet you’re stuck with us,” I say, enjoying the banter. “We’re pretty awful. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of us before.”
“I don’t get out much.” Her voice is droll, her gaze meeting mine once more.
“Clearly.”
One side of her mouth kicks up and Susan practically moans in ecstasy. “Beautiful! Keep looking at him like that!”
“I thought you were some brainless heiress whose only job is to spend daddy’s money.” My voice is light, but there’s an edge to my words. I’m purposely trying to rile her up.
“From what I’ve read about you, I’m thinking that’s more your job,” she returns snottily, her cheeks flushed.
Anger suffuses me, and I do my best to tamp it down, but damn, that’s a sore point for me. How the fuck did she know? I guess a simple Google search would reveal that yes, only a few years ago, I was out partying every night. Drunk off my ass as I stumbled out of yet another club with yet another hot brunette on my arm. A woman who looks and acts nothing like this woman I’m with right now.
Charlotte is the complete opposite of what I’m normally attracted to. And while her legs are sexy as fuck and her plump mouth looks ripe for dick sucking, I don’t really appreciate what that sexy mouth has to say.
“Are you calling me brainless?” I ask, my voice tight. My irritation is clear, yet she continues on, oblivious.
“You’re the one who said it, not me.” She offers a tiny shrug, a gasp leaving her when I grasp her arm, pulling her close. Wide blue eyes meet mine. “Let me go.”
“No.” I glance up, noting the near orgasmic look on the photographer’s face, her finger working the shutter like a madwoman. “You talk a good game, so let’s keep it up. You don’t know me.”
“You d-don’t know me either.” I feel the tremble beneath my grip, and normally, I would let a woman go if I scared her.
Though I don’t scare women. Ever. I’m the nice guy—I wasn’t lying to Charlotte when I said I was the nicest Constantine. I’ve never had to be mean or ruthless, not really. I leave that up to Winston. Or my mother. I’ve never had to fight for a damn thing in my life. Doors open for me. Opportunities come knocking. I seek nothing.
They all seek me.
But damn it, I’m still pissed over what she said.
“Not that I should have to explain myself to you, but I knew how to have a good time when I was younger. I might’ve partied too hard, but that was a long time ago. I was a different person then. I’m working for the family company now.”
Fuck, clearly it’s a sore point, my past reckless behavior.
“It wasn’t that long ago that you were partying so hard,” she says, snotty as hell.
Shit. She’s right, but come on.
“And you’re so perfect while I’m a complete mess? Not too sure about that.” I lean in close, my mouth at her ear, my hand coming to rest on the bridge rail, caging her in. I’m sure to anyone else the pose seems intimate. As if I’m about to whisper something sweet and endearing. “At least I’m not a scared little virgin who hides away from everyone.”
She rears back, fury flaming in her eyes. “I already told you I’m not a virgin.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Really,” I deadpan.
“Yes.”