Page 77 of Sinister Intentions

But he merely grinned, undeterred. “Don’t give me that look. I know you too well for it to work. You’re not really angry.”

Damn him, he was right. With a resigned sigh, I poured myself another drink, considering how much to reveal. In the end, honesty should win out—Matt deserved that much, at least.

“She accidentally hit me with a book,” I admitted the words sounded like a lie—even to me.

Matt’s eyebrows shot up, but to his credit, he didn’t look entirely surprised. “Are you sure it was accidentally, and she didn’t throw it at you?”

“Yes,” I said. The book part, yes. Everything else—I had no idea how they happened. “And then she fell from the ladder.”

He stared at me, gauging if I was telling the truth. “By now, I really think leaving the two of you alone is a potential threat to world peace.”

I cocked my head. “Very funny.”

He shook his head. “We should go back to our guests,” he said, took my drink, and downed it. “I never thought I’d see you hiding from a woman.”

“Hiding?” Ridiculous. I was not hiding… I needed a moment to process what’d happened between us and decide on the best path forward. I proceeded him out of the library.

Jemma’s laughter rang through the air even before I reached the dining room, and it felt like an invisible current shooting through me and making my heart race.

Fuck me. What kind of witchcraft did that punk use on me?

I cast a glance at Matt, who was hovering at the library’s door with his phone out and texting someone.

I turned back, leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over my chest, and observed the dining room.

Laughter and animated conversation filled the air, a stark contrast to the usual atmosphere in this house.

My gaze zeroed in on Jemma. Picca in her lap, she had her head thrown back in a carefree laugh.

My stomach tightened as Dante leaned over and whispered something that made her laugh even harder.

Dante had always been good with the ladies, had always been a flirt.

The jealousy that flared within me was as sudden as it was unexpected—a searing heat that licked at my insides like an uncontrolled blaze.

I clenched my jaw, struggling to maintain my composure as I watched her lean toward him as if the two of them were longtime friends or lovers.

They’d just met; how did they establish that easy familiarity in zero time?

And why was she so different with me?

She’d been a punk right from the start.

Zero respect, all sass.

The one person who seemed immune to my charm, my power, my very presence.

Except when she went all soft, like under the shower, when she stared at me with her big doe-like eyes.

Or just now, when I’d kissed her.

When my lips met hers, she became soft and pliant; in that moment, she’d surrendered to me completely. Even her body had melted into mine in a way that had me craving more, so much more.

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the image away.

Fuck. How she’d sighed, and how perfectly she’d fit against me like she was made to be mine.

Damn it. This was Jemma Donnelly. The girl who defied me and gave me grief. The girl who’d quite possibly hacked my servers and stolen my money.

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