Page 16 of Winning Brynn

"Ugh, do we have to?" I roll my eyes. "I'd rather suffer an anal probing than talk about him. Just because he's hot and has that stupid sexy accent, it doesn't justify him acting like a dick. He's an egotistical asshole with a stick pushed so far up his ass I'm surprised it hasn't punctured a lung."

She snorts. "You like him."

"What the fuck?" I blink, stunned. "What are you struggling to understand about what I just said?"

"I'm just saying…" She shrugs. "You haven't sounded so passionate about something since you found out you have to wait two years for the nextBridgertonseason. And you definitely haven't been that passionate about a man in all the time I’ve known you."

To be fair, we’ve only known each other a year, and a year isn't all that long.

"Maybe I've just never hated someone as much as I hate him."

"There's a fine line between love and hate."

"Well, in this case, the line is thicker than a porn star's dick."

There's a choked sound from the side of my room, and my eyes swing wild and wide to the intruder standing in the open doorway.

Ah, fuck.

"Issy, I've gotta go." I hang up the phone before she has a chance to respond and pull my comforter over my legs like it'll protect me from the man staring down at me with both amusement and annoyance.

"How long have you been standing there?"

Leo smirks. "I arrived somewhere around anal probing."

Fuck my life.

"Can I come in?" he asks, the slight hint of hesitance in his voice making me pause.

I've never known Leo Sullivan to be anything less than arrogant. But here he is, shifting on his feet with his hands shoved into his jeans, shuffling from foot to foot.

It's putting me on edge.

Tipping my chin high, so as not to give away my discomfort, I motion him in with a quick nod of my head. "What can I do you for, wise ol' gentleman?"

"Huh?"

"Don't you folk speak like that in the land of Shakespeare and bowler hats?"

"No, we definitely do not."

He takes a few steps into the room, just enough that he can close the door behind him, then leans back against it like he's just stepped out of a how-to guide on seducing women.

He doesn't look hot right now.

Not even a little bit.

Maybe if I tell myself that enough times, I’ll start to believe it.

"Brynn?" His gruff voice shocks me back to life.

"Sorry, did you say something?"

"You're a real piece of work, you know that?"

I'm self-aware enough to know that I'm not always a walk in the park. As humans go, I'm probably on the lower end of tolerable. I know I can come across as vapid, self-centered, and shallow. To most people, I'm just a girl who isn't capable of thoughts deeper than what precise shade of blue I'll get my nails painted this week.

And truthfully, I like it that way.

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