Page 18 of Merciless Heir

“Or?”

“I’ll get someone else.”

He folds his arms and the figure he cuts in the suit is utterly mesmerizing. He makes it hard to draw an even breath. Kingston is equally at home in suit and in jeans and that pure female part of me is there for it.

What the hell is he like without clothes?

Impressive, I bet.

When we kissed, I touched him, ran my hand down his chest, over hard delineated abs, and…and even though the soft merino wool sweater he was hot, hard, and I swear not even an inch of fat.

What the fuck am I even thinking?

I don’t like him or anyone of his kind.

“You can…” I trail off. Turning him down, pushing him to hire someone else isn’t part of the job description.

I’m having fun, yes, by toying with him and I’m not meant to start until I got the green light, but going a step too far will screw everything up and I’m not into losing money.

“Can what?” he asks me, voice soft, that steel cold and hard at the center. “Because I don’t like being fucked about, Sadie. And there are others.”

“I’m the best.”

“Most notorious,” he says, countering. “And notoriety isn’t important.”

He’s playing me right back. Kingston Sinclair isn’t a man to put up with games unless he wants something. But everyone has a limit. So I pick my words carefully, because I’m in trouble if he goes with someone else.

“But my skills are.”

“Again, there are others. So. My question.”

About his mother. I use my carefully handpicked words. “I don’t know her.”

I don’t know Faye Sinclair. I’ve met her, talked with her, agreed to a job she’s paying me for, but having him pay me too, getting paid double for the same thing, is so delicious, so delightful I’m in love with the idea. But know her? No. I don’t know her. So I’m not lying.

Kingston isn’t a man to underestimate. Those striking dark blue eyes with the hints of coppery-gold spark fire, and a low smile curves his hard mouth that can kiss so sweet, like he knows I’m working a loophole.

He probably does. He’s exceedingly smart.

Kingston straightens and opens the door to his car, and gestures in.

“A strange man picking me up on the street? What’s next? Candy?”

He laughs suddenly. “You like candy.”

“Everyone likes candy.”

“Talk to my brother, Mag about that one,” he mutters. He lifts his gaze past me to the sleek, modern apartment scraper behind me. “You coming? Or you hoping to sign autographs?”

“You’re an ass.”

“Probably, and I’m not a strange man. We’ve kissed.”

“That doesn’t stop you being strange,” I say, looking from the inviting comfort of the back seat of the car, and to him. “And that’s not happening again.”

“I didn’t say it was. We’re not done, Sadie. Get the fuck in.”

Behind me, voices rise and I narrow my eyes at him but slide past him and into the car. He follows.

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