Thorne Princess(52)

“So you know about the Uber.” I stayed at the door to his bathroom as he pushed his briefs down. I took a moment to appreciate his ass again. The hollows on each side of his cheeks. The prominent Dimples of Venus I wished I had for myself.

He entered the shower before turning it on and waiting for the hot water. The psychopath.

“I know about everything you do.” He brushed his wet hair back from his face. A cloud of steam formed over the glass, blocking the view. “And you’re going to be grounded for that little stint. One month, minimum.”

“I don’t think you understand the situation here.” I adopted Hera’s tenor. Prim with a touch of oh-you-little-peasant-you. “This whole place is wired, remember? Tapped. And you just made a big boo-boo.”

“Not my room,” he said indifferently.

Shoot. I believed him. It made sense, since no one was counting on me spending time in this room.

“And what I made, was two women come. One of them I didn’t even touch.”

He knew he’d made me climax. I didn’t confirm it. Although my red-hot ears, I suppose, did.

“You just forcibly made me watch you have sex with another woman,” I reminded him. “This is the second time I watched you be inside someone else. I have huge leverage on you.”

How could he not know that?

“Really? Forced, you say?” He used a soap bar to shampoo his hair. And as a shower gel, too.

“You didn’t stop when I walked in.”

“Into my room. Please tell me how I forced you to watch me fuck someone else, rather than, oh, let’s see—you walking in on me, in my room, during my time off, having sex with a woman, and kept staring at us like…how did you call it? Skipper the Creeper.”

My mouth fell open. He was such a cunning…manipulating…

“You’re not going to get away with this,” I hissed.

Of course, he was getting away with it. He already had. My parents were firmly on his side—or at least they weren’t on mine. I had no way to negotiate myself out of this nightmare situation.

“Stop sounding like every badly-written superhero.” He turned off the water and walked out completely naked. He was a vision, and he knew it. I looked away, not giving him the satisfaction of being openly admired.

“This isn’t over.”

He grabbed a towel, patting himself dry. “Are you done?”

“No. You’re a pervert.”

“Yes,” he surprised me by saying. “But so are you.”

“I’m not—”

“Go back to your room. I’ll think of your punishment tomorrow.”

“I’ll run away before bending to your will.”

He secured the towel over his narrow hips, grabbing his shaving foam and razor. “Better get some comfortable shoes then.”

Not wanting to keep this awful exchange going, but desperate for some destruction points, I settled for grabbing the expensive cologne by his sink and hurling it against the wall. It shattered noisily, cologne everywhere. I turned around and marched toward my room, realizing one of the glass shards had lodged in my foot.

“Shit!” I roared but kept marching. Now I needed to take the glass out.

I heard him laugh behind my back.

Bastard.





Poor Brat.

Poor, poor Brat. Couldn’t catch a break if said break was sitting still right in front of her, with a Post-it note reading, CATCH ME.

I didn’t feel bad about last night. The fact that she’d decided to stop and enjoy the show was unexpected, but definitely not unwelcome.

I wasn’t much of an exhibitionist, but I liked having Hallie’s eyes on me when I fucked Marla, a flight attendant I’d known from years back and was in Dallas for a layover.

Brat had a dark side, and I had to remember she was off-limits, because nothing turned me on like darkness.

I did feel sorry for her. Her parents were two pieces of work. The shit show yesterday was very telling. A quick scan of the Thorne estate had confirmed zero mentions or sights of anything Hallie-related. Though I’d seen plenty of photos of her horsey sister along with her fiancé, who looked like a piece of bread soaked in water.

The time her parents made her wait conveyed the message that she wasn’t important to them. Then her father had invited me for a talk, in which her mother was present, and I realized these people didn’t know their own daughter as well as I did. They thought she had an alcohol problem, something I’d have picked up on if it were true.

They thought she had multiple sexual partners—in practice, I’d wager she was seeing very little non battery-operated action between the sheets.

And they thought she was as dumb as a rock. But I was starting to suspect there was more to their daughter than meets the eye.

I woke up with a headache. It was six in the morning. Brat was fast asleep. I hit the hotel gym, but not before giving the security company I’d hired a piece of my mind about letting Brat get into the room without calling me first last night.

I hit the shower back in the suite. Brat’s soft snores were still rising from the master bedroom. I wondered what kind of plan she had waiting for me today. Brat was always in the mood for retaliation whenever I messed with her. And yesterday I’d made her come in her studded pink sweatpants just from watching.