Page 8 of Cookies and Control

Bull cuts him off. “No sex. No toys. That’s final.” He lowers his gaze. “Christ, Rocky. She’s your niece.”

“Step—” Rocky cuts himself off when Bull clears his throat.

Does Bull plan to keep me a virgin forever? This is going too far. “You’d rather lie than have sex with me?”

Encouraged by Laz telling me I’m pretty, and Rocky’s… enthusiasm, I try to sound like I’m genuinely curious. “Would it be so terrible to have sex with me?”

“Yes.” The speed of Bull’s answer surprises me.

The implication stings. I’m not good enough. Not attractive enough. For him. And he’s going to ruin my chance with Rocky too. Tears threaten to spill, but I blink them back, turning this on Bull. “You always think you’re above the rules. If you’re not going to play fair, let Uncle Rocky.”

Ooh! UsingUnclewasn’t helpful. Bull’s nostrils flare.

I want to scream. It won’t do any good. I storm toward the door, nearly twisting my ankle in my haste. I yank off my heels and throw them at Bull—a tantrum—probably another thing that’s not helpful.

Rushing to a quiet corner in the club, I slump against a wall. I sniffle, but I must be too angry to cry.

“Are you okay?” a deep, soothing voice asks. It’s Lazovski.

“I’m sorry for ruining the auction.”

He tucks a finger under my chin long enough to bring my gaze to meet his. “You didn’t. What makes you think that?”

“I got caught up in Jasmine’s excitement, but I’m not like her.”

“It’s good that you’re different than Jasmine, not everyone wants a woman like her.”

Is he going to make me say it? “I shouldn’t have been on stage.” I realize he might misunderstand and add, “But I am a virgin.”

“Okay, I’m glad you didn’t lie. But why don’t you think you should have been on stage?” He’s very good at feigning ignorance.

“Look at me. Look at Jasmine. I get it. I’m not…”

“Jasmine exudes fun and dominance with a vibrant beauty. You’re more gentle with a softer beauty.”

Soft beauty? Is that the politically correct way of saying… not pretty?

His brow furrows. He takes my hand as if requiring my full attention. “You don’t know that?”

I’m to confused to respond.

“You present as the epitome of kindness and gentleness. Your big brown eyes and those long lashes… every blink is an innocent seduction—”

“Stop. This is weird.” I step past him but he grabs my arm, gently requesting that I stay. I do.

“You’re uncomfortable being told you’re pretty.” He studies me. “You underestimate yourself.”

“You don’t have to flatter me to get me to follow through on the auction.”

“It’s not flattery. What’s going on here?”

“I need to ask you a sex question.”

“Of course.”

“The way you described me… it seems so… I don’t know… nice. Cannicebe pretty?”

“Yours is.”

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