Page 53 of Bossed By the Orc

“Are you with these two hooligans?” Bastian asked her, as if I hadn’t threatened his existence.

She nodded, still eyeing me with wariness in her gaze. “Yes, I’m Dristan’s assistant.”

“Assistant,” the satyr echoed, grinning as he rocked back on his hooves. “I see. Well, it’s wonderful to meet you.”

He turned that grin toward me and trepidation curdled in my chest. There was payback in those eyes. Years and years of payback that I was sure we’d earned, but if it was going to involve Penelope, I’d rather my bare ass be dragged across tar and tacks.

“If you need anything at all,” the male told Penelope. “I’m at your service. My name’s Bastian but a female as beautiful as you can call me Bas.” His stupid perfect smile on his stupid smug face made my lip curl.

“Oh.” Penelope said, blinking up at him. “Thank you. You can call me Pen.”

My jaw clenched along with my fist.

I’m going to punch that smug prick until I break that handsome face of his.

“Pen,” he purred and I bared my fangs at him. He pretended to ignore me but I knew the fucker had the peripheral vision of a goddamn owl. He’d caught me sneaking behind him enough times that I knew it was a fact.

He trotted off with a jaunt in his step toward the cockpit and Penelope stared after him. I was pretty sure that humans were susceptible to their charms, and it was everything I could do to not murder him. After all, how difficult would it be to toss him out of the plane mid-flight and say he hadn’t shown up in the first place?

I pondered the thought for a moment before deciding against it. It would be a pain in the ass to find a replacement and I could admit to grudgingly liking the ornery bastard. Still, when he came back to give my female a drink and snacks, settling a tray next to her, I didn’t stop trying to incinerate him with my glare.

Chapter Thirty

Penelope

I had to pinch myself. I couldn’t fully understand how I’d gone from scrubbing toilets to sitting in a luxury private plane.

I glanced over at the handsome orc who was next to me, his focus on the door of the cockpit, his usual scowl on his face. If I had anyone to thank for my giant leap of fortune-change, it was him.

My heart pattered in my chest as the memories of the day fluttered through my mind. Heat made a swift path up my body to my face and I squirmed in place.

His head snapped around, his focus on me absolute. “Rega,” he purred, leaning closer, but it was his brother’s turn to shift his attention toward us.

“Rega, is it?” Rudgar asked, a smile spreading across his lips.

“Yes,” I nodded, intrigued. “That’s what he’s taken to calling me. Do you know what it means?” I’d been equal parts nervous and curious about the word, so I’d never ventured to ask.

“I do,” Rudgar said, his smile widening to a grin. “And I’ll tell you…for a price.”

Dristan’s growl was low and threatening and I found myself taking his hand into mine to soothe him.

This is your brother, I said with my eyes and he sent me a silent message back.

I don’t care.

I rolled my eyes but focused on Rudgar while keeping my hand on Dristan’s. This seemed to settle him, and he twined our fingers together, lifting my hand to his lips.

“What price?” I asked Rudgar as heat invaded every inch of my body again.

“A favor,” he said with a shrug. “I don’t have anything in mind right now, but I’d like to bank it for the future.”

My eyebrows swept up, but I nodded. “Okay.”

Rudgar’s smugness was palpable. “It’s a term of endearment. It means love.” He turned that grin his brother’s way and earned himself another growl, but this one was much less potent as Dristan ran his lips over the skin at the back of my hand.

I turned wide eyes his way, staring up at him, but there was no regret in his expression. Only a simple question in his eyes. One he’d already asked and I’d already answered.

“Soon,” I whispered. He nodded and I tugged my hand free from his, caressing his cheek and burying my fingers in his beard as I did. The amusement in his gaze—that I only saw when we were alone—told me everything I needed to know.

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