The Governess (Wicked Wallflowers, #3)(37)

The minx didn’t miss a bloody beat.

He latched on to the former part of her charges. “You accuse me of snooping?” He chuckled. “That would imply you had been clandestine in your efforts.” He hardened his features, shedding the false veneer of amusement. “I taught you better than to be this careless.”

“Yes, you’re a master of treachery and deceit. Aren’t you?” she asked, her expression deadpan.

A muscle twitched in his jaw. How dare she turn this on him? How dare she play the offended, wronged party here? Broderick planted the legs of his chair back on the floor. “Careful,” he warned. “My tolerance for any insults from you was a great deal more considerable before I learned of your duplicity.”

“Duplicity?” she hissed. Reggie dropped her spindly elbows on the table, as she effectively framed her fury-reddened face. “You of all people would begrudge me having something of my own?”

“I would begrudge you stealing my staff and better rates for yourself,” he coolly returned, effectively quelling whatever words she’d intended to hurl next. “So let’s not have you play the offended party here.” Giving his lapels a tug, Broderick sat back in his chair. “Now, shall we resume our negotiations?”

“Negotiations?” she spat. “Is that what this is? You forget, I know you.” And she knew everything, including the greatest sin he’d shared with her less than a day ago. Under the table, he curled his hands. “This is nothing more than your usual show meant to intimidate me. To remind me of who holds the power.”

The problem with having confidantes is they know a person more than could ever be safe. It was why holding the trump card and wielding it with precision determined whether one thrived . . . or died.

And he’d no intention of caving. “Am I to take this to mean you don’t wish to continue with the purchase of this establishment?”

All the color faded from her cheeks until her tense ruby-red lips stood out stark amidst her pale face. “Go. On.”

“Splendid,” he said with false cheer. “Let us proceed.” Broderick fished through the legal documents. His skin prickled with the heat of her stare on his every movement. “Let us first begin with the new terms of the arrangement.” Finding the page he’d sought, Broderick slid it wordlessly across the table.

Not making any attempt to pick it up, Reggie glanced down at it and then back to him. “What is this?” she asked bluntly.

“It is a number.”

She ground her teeth with a ferocity that was sure to give her a headache. “I see that. What is the . . . ?” Reggie gasped, and she caught the end of that sound of shock behind her palm, stifling the remainder. “You intend to charge me double?” she choked out, her gloved hand muffling that query. “And for this place.”

“Tsk. Tsk. Surely you don’t expect me not to make a small profit on my venture.” He flashed her a smile. “Nor should you disparage the hall. It would make you a lovely establishment.”

Overhead, two birds flapped their wings wildly as they darted to another beam. Several black feathers rained down, one landing at the center of Reggie’s red curls. “How dare you make light of me . . . and this?” she demanded with a breathtaking display of courage and strength. It lit her eyes and colored her cheeks, transforming her from an ordinary woman into a Spartan warrioress, the manner of mesmerizing beauty whose fire burnt from within and whom red-blooded men would gladly risk being singed by. “I know this is about more than making a profit on this place.” She leaned forward, the delicate hint of jasmine that clung to her stirring his senses, at odds with this place and everything the Dials represented. And damned if it wasn’t heady for it. “So out with it.” He remained riveted on her lips moving as she spoke, her voice dripping with fury, only fueling this inexplicable desire for a woman who’d gone from friend to adversary. “What do you want?” There was a faintly husky quality to her contralto.

“What do I want?” he repeated back her question that, by the sheer nature of the words strung together, enticed. His gaze of its own volition moved from her face to the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

Shock went through him, holding him immobile at the absolute inanity of this unwanted, perilous hungering for Reggie Spark.

Broderick swiftly returned his focus to her flushed face. His was merely a primitive response born of the battle that had sprung between them.

Except—

Reggie nibbled at her lower lip, her slightly crooked front teeth troubling that flesh. And from that distracted movement sprang a sea of wicked visions: her mouth under his, on him, their tongues dueling in a bid for supremacy as fierce as the battle Broderick and Reggie waged in this crumbling hall. “A man such as you knows precisely what he wants of his opponent.”

Her absolute calm in the face of his own tumult effectively killed that reckless hungering.

Broderick kicked his legs out under the table until the tips of his boots brushed hers. “Why, I believe I was abundantly clear yesterday, Miss Spark. I want you to serve as a companion for my sister.”

And she would. Broderick ultimately got what he wanted from a person. He’d take what he needed from Regina Spark.

Friendship be damned.





Chapter 10

Mayhap you’re foolish enough . . . desperate enough to believe if you insert yourself into Polite Society that some powerful peer might save you . . .