Page 18 of Sweet Sinners
I blink at him, confusion turning to annoyance. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” His smirk deepens, a challenge sparking in his eyes. “I'll handle dinner. You—” he gestures down the hallway, dismissively casual “—go take a shower. Clear your head.”
The audacity, the sheer nerve of him sparks anger, but I'm too tired to fight it. Too tired of battling every moment in his presence. I nod grudgingly, forcing my legs toward the stairs.
At the top, I pause and glance back, finding Connor’s eyes still locked on me. His expression is guarded, unreadable, but it sends a shiver through me nonetheless. For a fleeting moment, I wonder what he's thinking, what he's seeing, but I shove the thought away quickly.
My life is chaos enough already. The last thing I need is him tangled up in the mess.
Chapter ten
Connor
Cali’scommandeeredthekitchen,ignoring my insistence on cooking, her stubbornness unwavering as she flicks me away with an irritated wave. “Out of my way, Connor,” she snaps, her tone sharp but threaded with a familiar, simmering annoyance.
Fine. I’m not about to argue with a woman gripping a chef’s knife.
So here I am, leaning against the marble counter with a glass of ice water, my eyes lingering longer than they should. She's dressed down, casual, her pajama shorts riding high on her thighs, the tank top modest tonight—annoyingly so, after what she put on display a few nights ago. Bra straps firmly in place. Lesson learned, apparently.
Not that it stops my mind from wandering.
The thought of her fighting her way through her father's corporate empire eats at me, especially when I imagine the suits inthe boardroom, watching her with their polished smiles and calculating eyes. Waiting for the first sign of weakness. It pisses me off. They should be lining up behind her, not quietly taking bets on her failure.
But what the hell do I know about Cali, really? I've only witnessed her at her sharpest, her most guarded. Our interactions have felt more like sparring matches than conversations. Yet beneath all that carefully crafted composure is something else, something I can't quite pinpoint. She's a locked door I'm tempted to kick open, and that alone makes her dangerous.
"Got any brilliant strategies for handling the company?" I ask, slicing through the thick silence hanging between us.
Nothing.
“Cali?” I try again, irritation edging into my voice. Silence.
Annoyed, I push off the counter to refill my glass, and that's when I notice—the tiny Bluetooth earbuds tucked into her ears, shielding her from me and the rest of the world.
Figures.
I step closer, and she startles, spinning around with wide eyes as she yanks an earbud free, shooting me a glare that's equal parts surprise and frustration.
“One day, Connor,” she bites out, exasperation bleeding into every word. “One full day without you invading my space. Is that seriously too much to ask?”
“Pretty sure we crossed paths at three in the morning,” I drawl, unfazed. “Your day was off to a stellar start long before now.”
Her eyes narrow dangerously, her fingers gripping the spatula tighter, like she's debating whether it's sharp enough to stab me with. “What do you want?”
“I asked if you have a plan for the company,” I repeat, keeping my tone deliberately casual, amused by how easily she bristles.
A flush stains her cheeks, creeping slowly down her neck, but she lifts her chin defiantly, eyes blazing. The Cali I've gotten to know in these past few days doesn't surrender easily.
And damn, if that doesn't make me want to push her even harder.
“Of course I do,” she fires back, her voice firm, even as the slight shift in her stance betrays her uncertainty. “The company’s strong, and I plan to keep it that way. It's not just profits, it's the people who drive them. We stay competitive by investing in our workforce, giving them tools to succeed without forcing them to bear the cost.”
Her delivery is smooth, confident, but I catch the flicker in her eyes. She’s been rehearsing this, I realize. Preparing for war, ready to fight anyone who doubts she belongs here.
“Not bad,” I admit, setting down my glass and folding my arms, my gaze holding hers. “Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.”
“I do,” she snaps back, a dangerous edge creeping into her tone, daring me to keep pushing.
My smirk deepens. “Good. Now you just have to convince the board.”
