“I have respect.”
Zeno leaned against the window, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “St. Victoria doesn’t count. You’re respected as a principal, but once you step outside of those walls, that so-called respect disappears.”
“How rich,” I balked, annoyed that he’d ruined my hair and was mildly right. “A talk about standing up for myself coming from a man who called me his pretty little whore. Hypocritical, don’t you think?”
“Behind closed doors, you will always be my pretty little whore and my pet. But in front of the world, I will always treat you with the respect a queen deserves, Darla.”
Be still, my heart.
Zeno’s rough-hewn words were a balm to my bruised soul. It cracked open and soaked my devil’s promise, pouring into every crevice until that sense of aliveness thrummed once more through the tendrils caging my soft heart.
“If you respect me, then let me go. Set me free. Break off this engagement and leave my family alone. Armel’s case is closed and if you really need a wife that bad, I’m sure there are many willing participants ready to take my position.” I gestured in the general direction of the ballroom. “You have an entire fan club at your disposal.”
Dry amusement twisted his mouth into a half-smirk. Zeno ignored everything I said and trickled his knuckles over my cheek. “So quick to defend your family. If only you knew what kind of person your mother really is.”
I jerked back. “Excuse me?”
I remembered my mother’s halted speech at dinner a few nights ago. She said Zeno knew something that she swore to take to the grave.
Diane Hill was opinionated, blunt, and overly demanding. However, she wasn’t a complete villain. Perhaps she was being dramatic and whatever Zeno had on her wasn’t as bad as she made it out to be.
Zeno stepped close. I stared at the navy material of his suit, loving how it molded to his strong, thick muscles. My eyes reluctantly moved to his tie, neatly held together with my barrette.
I was ashamed of how much I liked him carrying a piece of me.
Zeno cupped my chin and forced me to meet his dark gaze. “She gave her daughter away to save her own face. She can hardly contend for mother-of-the-year.”
“You blackmailed us,” I snapped, attempting to dislodge his touch.
“There isalwaysa choice.” He tightened his hold. “Politicians are known for stepping on other people’s toes to get what they want.”
I pushed at his chest. “You’re no better. You took what you wanted—me—without ever taking my feelings into consideration!”
“And I would do it again.” He brushed his full lips against mine. “Do you know what it’s like to want something so fucking bad that you’d do anything to have it?”
My heart soared like thousands of doves taking flight.
“No.” Yes. I wanted to kiss him so bad right now, it was tearing at my restraint.
“Of course not. You’re too much of a good girl, huh?” His warm tongue swiped over my bottom lip and I moaned at the sensation, giving in and parting my mouth. Zeno simply breathed me in, his hands grabbing handfuls of my ass and lassoing me into his tall body. “Humour me. Tell me a time you were reallybad, baby.”
This man incited the most hot and cold reaction out of me. One second I wanted to smack his head, and the next I wanted to grab his jaw and kiss him senseless.
My lips captured his, drinking in his masculine groan. “I went to a sex club and let a stranger boss me around in a room filled with whips and chains.”
He smiled and kissed me back fervently. “What else?”
My tongue roved over the seam of his mouth. “I ordered the worst decaf coffee for six months straight for the staff’s break room without telling them after they pissed me off at a faculty meeting. They kept complaining about the taste and I pretended like I had no idea what they were saying.”
“Oh, now we’re talking,” he growled playfully. I made out with him, relishing the sound of our wet lips meeting softly. Zeno was an incredible kisser. “What else?”
I hesitated and my fiancé squeezed my ass cheek in encouragement. “I-I put hair removal cream in my mother’s shampoo after she sold my dream car when I was nineteen.”
Zeno’s mouth stopped its assault on mine. Two seconds later, he chuckled low and the sound was so naughty, I tried fusing my lips to his, wanting to hear it reverberate inside of me. “I need more context. What car was this?”
I chewed my lip, debating how much I should share.
Eventually, I unclenched the lapels of his suit jacket and smoothed my hands over the fabric. “One of my favourite colours is green, so after a lot of begging, my mother purchased a lime green corvette for my seventeenth birthday. I had the sports car for two years before she sold it without consulting me. Said women of higher ranking shouldn’t drive flashy cars and that I needed to outgrow this phase. Needless to say, I was a teenager with lots of raging hormones and mixing hair removal cream with her shampoo seemed like the logical thing to do. When her strands started falling out, I let her assume she needed a hair transplant.”