Page 168 of My Stepbrother's Plaything

Jack wasn’t amused by the answer. He frowned at Bridget, and continued to glare her over from the top of her head to the tips of her shoes. “Don’t you remember what I told you the first night that I met you?” Jack asked, a darker edge coming into his voice. It was like the night before, only far more intimate—in some strange, twisted way.

“I remember,” Bridget agreed. She just had to do what Jack said, and her job would be easy. It was plain and simple.

“Good girl,” Jack sneered. “So take off your crappy, muddy shoes and your socks and follow me,” he instructed.

Jack didn’t wait for Bridget to take off her shoes and socks before turning on his heel and heading down the hallway. By the time that Bridget had managed to take both articles of clothing off again, Jack had turned the corner and was out of her sight. Nervously, Bridget stayed in the entrance to the hallway. If she went in without permission, it might end badly for her. Then again, hadn’t Jack just given her permission?

As if reading her mind, Jack poked his head out of one of the many doorways down the hallway. He was smiling again, and back to the side of him that Bridget was far more comfortable around.

“Well come on, kitten. Unless you’ve been magically glued to the floor in just a few seconds that I’ve left you alone,” he teased.

Bridget laughed at the joke, but her mind was stuck on a single word that Jack had said.

“Kitten.”

Chapter Nine

Bridget, although she had been stumped by the sudden use of a pet name, made herself move forward and closer to the room that Jack was in. He had ducked back inside of it, and had begun to shuffle around. Bridget could hear the distinct sounds of things being tossed away to make room for someone about to enter a messy room. She felt flattered that Jack was taking her into so much consideration, but it also made her feel like a specimen under a microscope.

As she walked down the seemingly impossibly long hallway, the word repeated in Bridget’s mind over and over and over again. Kitten. Kitten. Kitten. Kitten. Kitten. Had Jack Gordon really called her kitten? Bridget turned her eyes to the ceiling of the hallway. What had she ever done to deserve such torment in her life? She was going to go mad at this rate. First, she was given a job by the richest man in America—whose house showed that he had absolutely no fear in flaunting that wealth to absolutely anybody and everybody who would stop and take notice of it—and now he was calling her pet names. Bridget felt like she was going to pass out.

If it wasn’t all already too much for her, stepping into the room sealed her fate. Bridget had been expecting to be guided into Jack’s office, but she couldn’t have been more wrong. Unless Jack’s office looked strangely like his bedroom.

Jack was sitting on the grand bed in the center of the room, staring up at Bridget with a raised eyebrow. She looked absolutely puzzled, and even though it was cute on her, he couldn’t help but laugh. Bridget blushed again when Jack laughed at her. When Jack was around, there was not an end in sight to her profuse blushing. At this rate, she was certain that her cheeks were going to be red for the rest of time.

“Why don’t you take a seat?” Jack offered, patting the spot on the bed next to him. He was leaning back on his hands, and his legs were open in a show of dominance. It was a way to show off to a new girl who he had only just been introduced to.

Bridget couldn’t believe what was happening to her. This man—this gorgeous, stunning, disgustingly rich man—was inviting her to sit on his bed. Despite how hard she tried, Bridget couldn’t make herself budge. There was no way that she was ever going to move from her spot just a few feet into the bedroom.

Jack easily picked up on that, and shrugged. He could understand being nervous around him. Hell, if someone weren’t nervous around him, he would have found it a far stranger occurrence.

“So, I want to talk to you about Angel,” Jack said. He approached the topic as casually as he could. He couldn’t help but be overprotective of Angel. She was, well, his little angel. “How was she tonight?” he asked.

“She was just fine,” Bridget replied. She crossed her arms behind her back, and tried not to think about the way that she could very clearly see the outline of Jack’s cock in his pants.

Was he going commando? And was he showing off for her? Bridget could have swooned on the spot at the thought of it all. She had to have been dreaming.

“Did she get her homework done?” Jack asked.

“I didn’t ask if she had any, I’m sorry,” Bridget said. There was no point in lying to Jack. He would find out the truth sooner or later. She would have preferred to take his anger about a slip in carefulness over his rage at being lied to. “She just wanted to eat dinner and watch movies, so that’s what she did. She fell asleep just before her bed time, though,” Bridget offered, hoping that that was good enough for Jack.

Jack nodded, mulling over the things that Bridget told him. It made Bridget squirm on the spot. Jack was making her feel so vulnerable. She could only assume that it was a skill that he had over everyone that was around him. The only two people that Bridget doubted his skill worked on were Angel and Maggie.

“She can get it done tomorrow,” Jack agreed. “I’m afraid that I go a bit too easy on her,” he said with a sheepish grin. “I’m wound around her little finger, and she eats up every single second of it. With a girl that cute, how am I supposed to say no to her? She stays up until midnight eating whatever she wants, but in the end she gets everything done that needs to be done. That’s more than I can say for myself.”

“What were you working on tonight?” Bridget asked, looking Jack up and down. “You were back here for a very long time. I was almost worried about you.”

“Almost worried,” Jack teased. “Geez, if you were almost worried, then maybe you could have brought me a slice of pizza.” He waved his hand at that, and curled his nose. “I’m sick of pizza. Angel can’t get enough of the stuff. I miss the days before I had kids where I was eating caviar each night and drinking champagne until I puked.”

“I’ve never lived like that,” Bridget mused. She hadn’t even meant for the words to truly leave her mouth. It was a nasty habit of hers.

Jack’s eyes lit up at the sentiment, and he stared up at Bridget. This was a change of pace that he could easily get on board with. As nonchalant as he could—and as a businessman it was something that he was incredibly good at—Jack tilted his head at Bridget.

“I can offer you that kind of lifestyle,” he said.

Chapter Ten

Jack was in front of Bridget in a matter of seconds. She wasn’t certain when he had gotten up, but there he was.

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