Page 4 of Outlier
She was still staring, but closer up, her expression didn’t look so blank anymore. No, closer up, I could see all sorts of things working behind her crystal blue eyes, and I could feel the intensity of her focus.
The coffee table was separating us, but I was near enough to make out just a hint of her lavender scent, not overpowering like some perfumes, but very subtle, and for some reason, it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
“Let me get this straight,” I said slowly. “You ordered a two-thousand-pound coffee table just so that you could seeme?”
“I also admired the table, very much. But yes, my main motivation was to have a private discussion with you.”
My eyebrows shot up. “What the fuck have you got to talk tomeabout in aprivate discussion?”
She bit her lip again, and I had the sudden and unexpected urge to reach over and pull her bottom lip free of her teeth. What the hell was wrong with me?
“I find you extremely attractive.”
There it was again—absolutely no filter on this woman. She didn’t say it in a low, breathy, needy voice. She stated it as an absolute, with no distinguishable emotion behind the statementat all. Almost as though she were approaching some sort of business transaction, which pissed me off when all I could think about was dragging her onto the stupid bloody table I’d made for her and stripping her out of her jeans.
“This has not gone unnoticed, princess,” I said in a low voice. Her cheeks stained even pinker at that, and I had to clench my hands into fists to stop myself from reaching for her. “But, for the love of God, why does that mean you order furniture you don’t need?”
“My attempts to approach you have so far been unsuccessful,” she said, still in that odd business-like tone. “This appeared to be the most expedient option.”
My eyebrows went up. “Ordering a fucking expensive one-of-a-kind coffee table was the only way you could think of to talk to me?”
“Yes.” She gave a firm nod. “Especially given that we are never alone, and we have never had a direct conversation before. My half-brother is extremely protective. He does not really approve of my… fixation with you.”
I smirked at that. “I bet he doesn’t. Not surprised he doesn’t approve of the likes of me.”
“The likes of you?” she asked.
I chuckled.
“Princess, I’m about as rough as they come. There’s no way the Duke of Fuckingham would want me anywherenearhis sister.”
“Half-sister.”
I shrugged. What was with all the half-sister, half-brother bollocks? Who cared? Clearly Ollie didn’t see her as any less than a sister. It seemed cold. But then, this chick’s personality was positively Arctic.
“Okay,” I said, losing patience with this entire aggravating conversation. “Here I am then. What did you want to say to me?”
She cleared her throat and then swallowed before speaking again. The only indication that she was nervous was the slight shake to her hand as she pushed her hair behind her ear.
“C-can we sit down? Maybe you could come to the kitchen? I could make you a cup of tea as per social protocol.”
As per social protocol? What the hell was wrong with her?
“Just spit it out, princess,” I said. “I’ve had a long day, and you’re not my only delivery.”
“Oh.” She stared at me again, and I didn’t bother suppressing my sigh. “Okay. Well, as I was saying—I find you very attractive, and as such, I was wondering if you might be open to… to progressing things on a physical level and?—”
“Is that a fancy way of saying you want to fuck me?”
Vicky blinked. It was the only indication that what I said got to her at all. “Well, yes that would be part of the?—”
I felt my temper spike. I’d always had a bit of a temper, and if I was honest, a slight chip on my shoulder about people born with silver spoons in their mouths. This woman thought that because she could probably buy and sell me and my entire family, that gave her leave to do and say whatever she wanted. Rich people were entitled: she found me attractive, so she felt entitled to snap her fingers and bang me.
“Let me get this straight,” I said through gritted teeth. “You get me here on false pretences when you don’t evenneeda goddamn coffee table. Then you proceed to make some sort of fucked-up pass at me because you’re bored with your rich pretty boys, and you fancy a bit of rough?”
Her eyes went wide, and I was gratified that I was cracking that icy persona and extracting even more of a reaction.
“N-no,” she said.
