Page 241 of By His Rule

“Bullshit,” she coughs, making me chuckle.

“No, really. Sometimes I can’t deal with the bullshit of having someone else to worry about.”

“Lovely,” she mutters.

“I don’t need to tell you that most of them are hard work and demanding.”

“Demanding?” she asks, raising her brows. “I’ve no idea how you cope, dealing with someone demanding.”

“Okay, yeah. Laugh it up.”

“Just saying,” she mutters, pulling a piece of cheese from inside her sandwich.

“I’m tired of the bullshit. I want…honestly, I don’t know what I want. A change, I guess. Something less…superficial.”

“Are you trying to tell me that you’re ready for a grown-up relationship?”

“Maybe. No. Yes. I don’t know.”

She studies me for a beat before continuing to dissect her sandwich and eat the contents.

“I know everyone looks at the lives we live and thinks we have it all. And on the face of it, sure, we do. But the money, the careers, the…fame...it’s not always worth it.”

“I get that.” I glance at her. “Okay, I’m learning that now by getting to know you.”

“I know what you used to think of me. You made it more than clear.”

“It was a naive stereotype I wish I could take back.”

“Is that why you’re scared to talk about your past? Because you think I’ll put you in a box?”

She shrugs, not as quick to respond now that I’ve turned this back around on her.

“Maybe.”

“I don’t care about your past, or what happened before we met, Lorelei. I just want to know how it made you…well, you.”

“My past…it…it made me the independent, fierce woman that I am today. It taught me my worth and what I should and shouldn’t put up with from other people. Men, specifically.”

“Good. That’s good. You shouldn’t settle for any less than you deserve.”

“Like fake dating a millionaire.”

“I quirk a brow. Millionaire?”

She drops her eyes to the counter. “I don’t care about your money, Kian.”

“I know you don’t, and I love that about you. You’re not interested in me for any of the same reasons any of the others ever have been.”

“Who says I’m interested at all?”

“The wet patch on my desk and your scent on my fingers sure say a lot.”

“You’re a nightmare.”

“So, what did you want to do with your Saturday?” I ask, hoping like hell she doesn’t ask me to take her somewhere and not bring her back.

“Not really feeling like doing anything.”

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