Page 58 of Sweetheart: Part One

“For the record, I wouldn’t care who you told ifwefucked.”

“I didn’t fuck him,” I said before I caught myself.

Rook laughed, eyes twinkling as if I’d just given him what he wanted. Which I kind of had. There was another pause, where I focused on the last trophy—an old academy sports gold—wanting to get this over with.

“Probably for the best, though,” he noted at last. “That you didn’t, I mean.”

I glanced up at him, actually curious. “Why?”

“Wasn’t a great look. I thought he sent you packing because you were just that terrible at—” He cut off at the snarl on my face, a delighted chuckle slipping out.

“Irrelevant. I’m not interested,” I muttered. Sweetheartscouldbe intimate, but it wasn’t required. Thank fuck. I’d be finding every way possible to balance Rook without giving him that.

“Should you be saying things like that?” he asked, his grin still delighted. “If you want my signature so bad?”

“I’m not bargaining with sex.”

He considered that. “Good.”

“Good?”

“Never met a woman who’d seriously say no,” he said. “Even when they pretend otherwise. I don’t need leverage for that.”

“You think you could get me to climb into bed with you?” I asked, not able to hide my shock.After this? After I’d sent him packing last time—?

No—don’tbring that up right now.

“Yes.” He said it with such certainty that it circled back dangerously close to being hot.

Fucking.

Prick.

“Try it,” I spat. “Find out.”

“Cute.”

“What?”

“Trying to bait me into sayingI’dfuckyou?” He snorted. “You’re a long way from that, Baby Girl.”

I wrinkled my nose, holding the last trophy out to him once more. “Is it clean enough for you?” I asked.

I wanted this over with, the mantra was losing its power. I was starting to crack.

He took it, examining it quickly before setting it down on the couch beside him. “It’ll do.”

“And have I… shown you that I’m worth keeping around?” It killed me to keep the bitterness from my voice.

He scratched his chin, bright eyes looking down on me. “Unlike every Sweetheart before you, you aren’tcompletelyunbearable.”

Because I’m your fucking scent match, you arrogant slice of rotting road kill.Instead of saying that, I forced a neutral expression onto my face with a quick nod.

“I want to make it clear,” he said. “IfI sign you in, it’ll look like this between us on the other end.”

My blood chilled as those words sunk in. “That’s not how it works.”

“Then where’s the fun?”

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