Page 22 of Princess of Pride
His lips twitch at one side, and his gaze dips to my chest, which is covered by his jacket.
Not that he’d be interested in my tits. I’m sure the comment is what drew his eyes down.
“I want full disclosure on what’s mine,” he says, coolly.
I shouldn’t like the way he sayswhat’s mine. Maybe in another life I could have been his.
“What if I want the same?” I lift my chin higher. “Tell me your secrets, and I’ll tell you mine.”
More thunder rolls, but not as strongly as before. I don’t spare the windows a glance, too caught in his gaze.
“Fine,” he says to my surprise. “Under two conditions. You go first. And if you don’t like what you hear on my end, or you react in a manner that seems… worrisome, you’re moving in with me until the wedding.”
The bizarreness of his request takes me a moment to digest. “Fine. But I have two conditions of my own.”
A flash of amusement shows in his eyes. “Of course you do.”
“One. I’ll go first, but only with one secret. You have to go second. It has to be an even back and forth. Two. I will react naturally, however that may be, but I will never share that reaction or your secrets with anyone. You have my word. Three,” I add at the last second.
He arches a brow.
“If I move in with you locally or even in the city, I’ll still have to participate in my mother’s wedding preparation activities. So I have a plan to fix that.” One that will hopefully piss off Mom to the point that she gives up on it all.
He straightens with a heavy sigh like I’m exhausting him again.
I sit forward and raise my hands. “Just hear me out. We… elope in the UK.Or…”I add quickly, “Wait for it… wefakeelope in the UK.” I grin and recline because my face is dangerously close to his groin. “What do ya think?”
“Let’s walk and talk.”
I glance around the open living, kitchen, and dining room combo, confused. “You want totake a turnabout the room?” Itease, quotingPride and Prejudice, certain he won’t get it. Like he reads Jane Austen.
“I don’t talk about personal stuff in a house that isn’t mine. You never know who could be listening in.”
Wow. “That’s some serious paranoia.”
We have cameras all over. I doubt my dad spies on his guests though, especially Lachlan.
“You wouldn’t understand.”
A mafia romance I read recently springs to mind. “I know what we can do,” I say with enthusiasm. “If you fear being overheard, we could go into the bathroom and stand near the shower with the water running to mask our voices while we talk.”
He scoffs like I’m an idiot. “Where’d you learn that? A movie?”
“No,” I shoot back. Books are so much better than movies.
“That would never work with today’s technology. Besides…” His gaze darkens. “You don’t want to be anywhere near a shower with me.”
My brain envisions him trying to drown me—in a shower. Because that makes sense.
“Let’s walk.” He holds out his hand to help me stand.
I hesitate, then take it, ignoring the jolt that shoots up my arm from his strong, warm touch. Is that a callous? Not what I expected from Mr. Refined here.
Other than a slight narrowing of his eyes, Lachlan doesn’t seem to notice the electricity between us. Maybe it’s one-sided.
“If we’re walking the grounds, I’m going to need better shoes.”
He glances at my four-inch heels.
