Page 155 of Thorns of Malice

She cautiously does and then closes her eyes, moaning again.

I chuckle. "I told you you'd love it."

She nods and then pats her lips with her napkin. "It's delicious. And it's amazing how you created all these things from one hybrid."

I shift in my seat, confessing, "Your father knew what he was doing. He was talented. In all reality, he was the smartest man my father ever hired."

Sadness passes in her expression.

I squeeze her hand and confess, "I shouldn't have fired him. I shouldn't have ever let you walk off the estate. I should have never done what I did. And I promise you, everything I've done with the patent has been for you."

She breathes deeply a few times, and my nerves reappear.

"Dax, I don't want to talk about all that tonight. I'm tired of talking about it, thinking about it, and worrying about it."

I nod. "Me too."

"Okay, then." She smiles at me, grabs her purse, and slides out of the booth.

"Where are you going?" I question, worry filling me.

Her lips twitch. She seductively bats her lashes, puts her hand on the table, and leans across it so her face is an inch from mine.

I glance down at her cleavage, and her fucking C cups do the same thing they've always done to me—make my cock throb in pain.

She teases, "I'm going to the bathroom. I need to put on my lipstick."

Every cell in my body lights on fire. My voice comes out hoarse when I ask, "Is that so?"

Her lips curve higher and then she rises. "Yeah, that's so." She turns, then looks at me over her shoulder. "Dax?"

"Yeah?"

She warns, "Don't try to be someone you're not with me. I am who you made me into, and you are who you've always been. It's what makes us work. So don't try to fight it. I need you to be the Dax Carrington who takes what he wants and doesn't stop until he gets it." She purses her lips, then wiggles her ass as she leaves the room.

The blood in my veins boils. Her words replay in my mind.

I finish my wine and then slide out of the booth. I leave the room, go down the hall, and enter the ladies' room.

Ivy's standing against the wall with a smirk on her face.

She knew I'd come.

A woman washes her hands at the sink.

"Get out," I order.

She glances over at me. It's one of the old hag donors from Clifton University. She begged me for an invite to the opening, and I can't remember why I gave it to her.

"Dax, what are you doing in here? This is the ladies' room!" she reprimands.

I grunt. "I don't care, Corrine. Get out." I open the door.

"Well," she says on a huff, then grabs a handful of towels, dries her hands, and glares at me as she stomps past me.

I shut the door and lock it.

"Same old Dax Carrington," Ivy says, but there's approval in her expression.

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