Page 18 of Big Bad Bully
Brick glances at Madi. “Jack-and-Jill, it is. Whatever my bride wants.”
Madi’s intelligent expression goes soft at his words. “Sounds fun to me. So…Vegas?”
“How about Monte Carlo?” I suggest because Vegas is so base. Not because I want to share a long, international flight in our private jet with her annoying maid of honor.
But the moment I think of it, I picture handing Aubrey a glass of champagne where she lies in the sleeping pod, naked except for a tangled sheet around her luscious body, her body relaxed from the hard fucking I just gave her.
Yeah, I wouldn’t mind that scenario. As a one-off, of course.
Aubrey immediately rolls her eyes. “Oh, please. Why? Because it’s expensive?”
“It has the best nightlife in the world,” I answer evenly.
Again, Brick looks to Madi, who says, “That sounds amazing. I’ve never been.”
Yeah, no shit. I doubt she’d ever been out of the country before she met Brick. She tries to hide her lack of sophistication and normally has a decent bluff, but it was painfully obvious when he brought her to the Blackthroat Family Foundation Ball as his date.
Because I’m a first-class asshole, I cock my head and ask Aubrey, “Have you been?”
Aubrey
I suck in a breath and will away the flush Billy’s words inspire. He is the biggest dick ever.
I still feel where he put his hands on me, spanning my waist as he picked me up from the counter. I guess there are some decent muscles under that button-down designer shirt.
How and when does he work out? He’s not as pasty-white as you might expect from a Wall Street suit. I see freckles and signs of weather on his face, like he spends time outdoors on the weekends. Probably in the Adirondacks with Brick and Madi.
I force myself to stop imagining him in workout clothes and return to the game of verbal chess we’re playing.
He’s obviously trying to point out my lack of worldliness. I don’t care what a douche like him thinks–not all of us were born with silver spoons in our mouths. But I guess his point has been made–I can hardly reject Monte Carlo when I’ve never been there. I’ve never even been to Vegas, for that matter. Atlantic City is the farthest I’ve ever traveled.
“No.” I meet his gaze, refusing to let him fluster me. “So, I guess you’ll have to take the lead on all the arrangements.” I give him a mock-sorry look, then add brightly, “You already promised you’d foot the bill, right?”
It was the wrong tack to take. I forgot my aim was to force him to work with me on every tiny detail. He gives a dismissive wave of his hand. “Done. Get me the number of people, and I’ll have Annabeth arrange everything.”
I bristle. “Oh no, Suit.” Because I’ve sucked down most of his drink and because he’s already laid hands on me, my normal inhibitions are gone. I poke him in the chest with my index finger. “We already talked about this. You don’t get to throw money at this thing to make it disappear. And I’m not your assistant who you give orders to. We’re working on this party together, remember?” I don’t toss in the reminder that this is his punishment because I suspect humiliating Billy White in front of Brick would be dangerous.
As it is, his eyes do that strange trick of glinting icy grey. He snatches my hand with the outstretched finger and pulls it to his mouth, biting my knuckle.
I shriek. He didn’t bite me hard; I’m just shocked.
As quickly as he snatches my hand, he lets it go. I pull it to my chest, wrapping the other one around it protectively as I stare up at him.
He looks back impassively. I can’t read his expression at all. Was that bite a challenge? Punishment? An assertion of dominance?
Whatever it was, it turned me on. My nipples scrape against the inside of my bra, and tingling ignites between my legs.
I sense Brick and Madi staring at us, but can’t seem to move or think of anything to say.
Billy’s inscrutable look changes to one of scorn, like “asshole” is a persona he’s donning. “I remember,” he says, like working with me is utterly distasteful.
I am one part offended, one part glorying in the punishment aspect of it–that I’m forcing him to be with me when he hates it. Except I’m uncertain he does hate it.
I think…unbelievably…that he might be attracted to me.
And that he probably hates that, too.
I give him my sweetest smile. “Great. So should we talk details?”
