“That’s still not the same as a democracy.”
“Where oligarchs make most of the power decisions behind the scenes with money and deals that will never see the light of day?” Dima asked with heavy mockery.
“It’s not always like that.”
“Your optimism is charming.”
“Your arrogance is showing again.”
“I wasn’t aware I had tucked it away at some point.”
She just shook her head. Point to the prince.
“Have dinner with me tonight.” Dima’s expression left no doubt how he wanted the evening to end after their meal.
Or perhaps during. Honestly, the man looked hungry.
And Jenna liked it.
But she wasn’t giving in that easily. Not to a man who was used to getting what he wanted, when he wanted it. Like all the Merikov princes.
They were wealthy, handsome and charismatic. A fatal combination for the hope of any level of humility.
“We haven’t even eaten all of our lunch yet,” she demurred.
“It’s not food I’m thinking about.”
“I’m not hopping into your bed, Dima.” No matter how much her body might be urging her to do that very thing.
“But you want to.”
“Are you always this blunt?”
“No.”
“Why me?”
“Why do I want you?”
“No.” She didn’t think she’d survive a listing of what he found sexually appealing about her over lunch. “Why so blunt with me?”
“You appreciate honesty.”
“I do.” And once again, he’d noticed. He listened.
She liked it.
His dark brow lifted in sexy inquiry. “So?”
“So, you are honest to the point of bluntness.”
“Would you rather I was more subtle?” he asked like he really wanted an answer.
Jenna realized that no, she didn’t want that. “I prefer the bluntness.”
It should be easier to combat. Just sayno. Only she was struggling with that one small word.
“You’re five years younger than me,” she said instead.