Corrupt(113)

Nothing but black. The lapels of his jacket, a shirt, and then there was a sliver of smooth, tanned neck. I couldn’t see his face, six-foot-four as he was, but I’d know Michael anywhere.

“Who is it?” I asked playfully.

“Who do you think?” he snapped. “Open the damn door.”

I shook my head, laughing to myself. Any opportunity to aggravate him was a small victory.

Opening the door a few inches, I stood there, fixing him with a defiant stare.

“A little early, aren’t you?” I challenged. “You usually like your ass around ten.”

He hooded his eyes, not the least bit amused. “Let me in.”

But I shook my head, keeping him at bay. “No, I don’t think so. I’m not interested tonight.”

“Not interested?” He scowled. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means you can’t keep me locked up to be at your service whenever you’re in the mood.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Is that what you think I’m doing?” He pushed open the door and walked in, forcing me to back away. “You think I’m hiding you?”

He took another step toward me, but I immediately raised my pathetic sword between us, stopping him. Its flat tip pressed into his torso while the hilt nearly pressed into mine, keeping forty-three inches between us.

He let out a bitter laugh, looking down at my weapon. “My games are more fun.”

But I wasn’t playing. “You took Alex out,” I reminded him. “My first night at Delcour, she was in a dress, you were in a suit, and you both had just gotten back here from wherever you were at. You haven’t taken me anywhere.”

He swiped the sword away and walked into me, backing me up against a wall. Leaning his hand above my head, he dipped down, holding my eyes.

“So what do you want?” he sneered. “Flowers? A nice, polite dinner in a pretty dress, and a nice, polite f*ck in a hotel room? Then I’ll see you to your door at the end of the night? Come on, Rika. You’re disappointing me. That isn’t us.”

“Us?” I argued. “There is no ‘us.’ You have no idea what makes me happy, and you don’t care.”

“Really?” He nodded with a sarcastic lift to his eyebrows. “So sneaking into Hunter-Bailey for their open bouting event tonight wouldn’t make you happy? Because that’s what I was coming to get you for.”

My eyes rounded, and my mouth fell open.

“But if you’d rather dinner and movie, hey.” He shrugged. “I can go buy some boring f*cking flowers, too.”

I broke out a wide smile, squealing as I jumped up and wrapped my arms around him.

He tried to stay stiff and aggravated, but I could see the smile trying to break out.

“You suck,” I teased.

“So do you,” he retorted, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Don’t tell me how to treat you, okay? I know exactly what you like.”

And then he pulled away, giving me a light slap on the ass. “Now go shower and change. You stink.”

I couldn’t stop grinning as I spun around and dashed into the bathroom.





“STAND UP STRAIGHT,” Michael scolded, tossing his keys to the valet.

I followed him to Hunter-Bailey’s stairs, immediately squaring my shoulders and clutching my forest green duffel bag over my shoulder.

“Are you sure this is going to be okay?” I asked, facing him.

He reached behind my head and grabbed the black hood of the over-sized sweatshirt he’d put on me, pulling it over my hair.

“Who’s going to stop us?” he shot back.

I twisted my lips to the side as he tucked my long hair inside the hood.

Who’s going to stop us? Would I ever learn to retort with that when I had doubts? No, because I was a worrier.

“Well, what if they find out I’m a woman?” I pressed, my skin tingling as his hands grazed my face.

“Then smile and own it,” he replied. “The only way we find out what we’re capable of is by getting into a little trouble.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “Sometimes getting into trouble can get you into a lot of trouble. Just ask Kai and Will.”

He looked at me like I was an idiot. “Are you planning to beat up any cops or sleep with underage girls?”

I rolled my eyes.

“Come on.” He took my hand, pulling me up the stairs.

Opening the door, he entered, letting me follow, and I kept my head down, hearing glasses clink and boisterous laughter coming from the dining room.

The pungent scent of cigars drifted out, assaulting my nostrils, so I inhaled short, shallow breaths.

Michael laid a hand on my back, guiding me toward the stairs.

“Mr. Crist?” a male voice called, and we stopped.

My heart jumped in my chest, but I didn’t turn around.

“Policy requires that everyone check in, sir,” the man said. It must’ve been one of the attendants.

“This is William Grayson III,” Michael answered, his voice calm and confident.

I could feel the man’s eyes on my back.

After a few moments, he cleared his throat and answered, “Of course, sir.”

Relief swept over me, but I knew he knew. How could he not? If he knew Will at all, he would know I was several inches shorter and eighty pounds of muscle too small.