Page 40 of Violent Hearts

"Interrupting people?"

"Impatience."

He looks at me, a serious expression on his face that seems to come more naturally to him than smiling.

"I'm an impatient man," he clarifies. "I want a lot, and I want it now. Of course, in most cases, that's not possible. Controlling that trait is one of the biggest challenges for me."

He catches my gaze, curious to hear my reply.

"Challenge, huh?" I say. "You're really into that, aren't you? Challenges?"

He nods. "I guess you could say that. Everyone needs goals in life, the more you have, the more you live."

"Is that why you want to be elected to Congress?" I ask. "Because you need a new challenge?"

His nod is accompanied by a sigh this time.

"There will be plenty of time for us to talk about the campaign," he says. "Right now, I want you for something else."

This is the second time that he evades a question regarding his political aspirations. I don't understand why he's so reluctant to talk about it, given that it’s the main reason for my being here.

Or so I thought.

"I'll need to know more about it eventually," I tell him. "I mean, it's kind of my job to know, isn't it?"

He throws me a dark look, wrinkling his brows and licking his lips as he observes me. Something about his expression stirs my insides. It's so damn sexy to be looked at like this by a man like him. I will never understand how I, of all people, deserve his attention.

"Right now, you have a different job, Button," he whispers. "All you have to do for me today is to be a good girl. A good girl who will finish her dessert, thank me for the lovely dinner, and then go home with me to take her punishment, like a good little slut."

My heart jumps at the word, and I'm filled with a variety of emotions, ranging from feeling outraged to feeling flattered and excited. I wish I could say that outrage takes the lead, but it clearly doesn't.

"Punishment?" I ask in a whisper. "For what?"

The smile that appears on his face is laced with mischief. "Oh, so many things. I don't even know where to start."

"Name one thing."

He raises his eyebrows as a warning.

"I'm the one giving the commands here, don't forget that," he warns me. "But if you must know, it’s for rolling your eyes at me, for correcting me in front of my employees, for raising your voice at me… just to name a few things."

I bite my lower lip. "I didn't like that last punishment."

"You weren't supposed to like it."

"Why are you not punishing me for the fire?"

"Because that was an accident and had nothing to do with what is going on between us."

Right then the waiter interrupts our conversation when he delivers our dessert, a tiny portion of crème brûlée with raspberries on the side. Again, it looks so beautiful and fancy that I debate touching it. Of course, Jared has no such inhibitions. He breaks through the hard sugar coating without hesitating. I wonder if I could ever become this indifferent to beautiful things, if I just live this lavish lifestyle long enough. Somehow, I doubt I would.

"I'm still curious," he says, noticing me watching him. "What was occupying you so much that it made you forget about the stove and not notice the fire?"

"I told you before," I reply. "I was writing."

"Yes, but what were you writing?"

Swallowing the first bite of what is undoubtedly the best crème brûlée I've ever had, I look up, and am met with his dark gaze.

"It's... nothing," I say.

"Nothing?"

"It's private."

I evade his eyes, hoping he'll let it go, because I can't tell him. I can't tell him that I was writing about him, about us, about all of this.

He can't know.

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