Page 40 of Born a Queen

“What do you like to read?” she asked tentatively.

He leaned his ass against the desk, studying her. Was she asking him too many personal questions? She had always been inquisitive, without a lot of personal boundaries. She wanted to know what made people tick. She was a student of human nature. And the more she knew about a person the easier it was to get what she wanted out of them. The easier it was to create masterpiece forgeries.

Finally, he answered her question. “I read the news, world events, human interest stories, that sort of things. I also enjoy novels.” He walked straight toward her, so quickly that she took a step back bumping into the bed. He stopped next to her and bent to open the nightstand next to the bed. He pulled out several books and handed them to her. She glanced at the titles. Thrillers, mysteries, and a romance. She raised an eyebrow and held the last one up.

He shrugged carelessly. “It’s like porn for the brain.”

She gaped at him and then burst out laughing. He grinned and took back all the books except for the last one, the romance. “Take it, read it. I think you’ll like it.”

Her smile slowly faded as she stared up at him, her fingers tightening on the book, her heart pounding in response. The idea of reading the same words as him, of reading the same sex scenes he’d read, picturing them in his mind while they played out in hers. It was hot.

He reached out, touched her cheek, then pushed her hair back off her forehead. She became painfully aware of what she must look like. Her big glasses firmly in place, no makeup, the same rumpled clothes she’d worn the day before. He didn’t seem to care. He looked at her like she was the most beautiful woman on the planet.

“Thank you,” she whispered, in response to his giving her the book.

He winked at her. “Don’t dog ear the pages, fucking hate when people do that.”

She burst out laughing as she imagined this big thug who was capable of murdering people being annoyed at the bent pages in his romance novel. He was such a strange contradiction. Painfully domineering and egotistical, but he also had a wicked sense of humour. Five minutes in his company and she was running a gamut of emotions, from laughter, to anger, to fear. This thought sobered her. She didn’t know the real Mateo. Not really. And she didn’t know how to get to the heart of the man she was supposed to marry.

“I think I’ll go back to my room.”

He nodded, his eyes following her, his expression unreadable, as she slipped past him and headed for the door.

“Raina.”

She turned to look at him.

“I’ll have some clothes sent to your room until you’re able to do your own shopping.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, clutching the book to her chest.

He continued to stare at her as though mapping out her every feature.

“I will see you at dinner, mi amor.”

---