Twisted Games (Twisted, #2)(15)

My nostrils flared. I was still hard as a rock, and I loathed it. Loathed her, for tempting me this way. Loathed myself, for not having more self-control when it came to her.

“I don’t break my promises, Mr. Larsen.” Bridget insisted on calling me by my last name the same way I insisted on calling her princess. It irritated us both, but neither of us would back down first. Story of our entire relationship. “Do we have a deal?”

My jaw ticked in rhythm with my pulse. One. Two. Three.

My first instinct was to say hell no. The chip was the only reason she was alive right now. But this was the closest we’d ever gotten to a truce, and while I had no problem playing the bad cop, I would much rather work with a cooperative Bridget than breathe down her neck every day.

“Fine,” I ground out. “We start with a trial period. Four months. You keep up your end of the bargain, and I back off. If you don’t, I will handcuff you to me until you can’t even piss in peace. Understand?”

Her lips thinned further, but she didn’t argue. “A four-month trial. Fine.” She hesitated, then added, “One more thing…”

Disbelief filled my veins. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Red stained her cheeks. “You can’t tell anyone what happened. Especially not the palace.”

“You’re asking me to lie.” I was required to write up every incident with a client and submit it to Christian. The last guy who hadn’t…let’s just say he regretted his decision. Big time.

“Not lie, omit,” Bridget corrected me. “Think about it. If my grandfather finds out what happened, you’ll be fired, and your reputation will be trashed.”

Appealing to my ego. Nice try, princess.

“My reputation can handle it.” I raised an eyebrow. “I thought you’d be happy to get rid of me.”

The red on her cheeks deepened. “You know what they say. Better the devil you know…”

“Hmm.” Aside from the occasional civil interaction, we couldn’t stand each other, my hard cock and her hard nipples notwithstanding. Lust was one thing, but if we kept this up, we’d kill each other. Not to mention, I would be breaking all sorts of rules if I kept what happened in Philadelphia secret. I should report it to Christian and let him deal with the palace. He was better at that diplomatic crap, anyway.

But the thought of walking away from Bridget and never seeing her again caused a strange twinge of discomfort. As infuriating as she was, she was one of the more interesting clients I’d had. Smarter, kinder, less spoiled and entitled.

“I don’t suppose your request has anything to do with the fact you’ll never breathe a second of free air again once the king finds out what happened.” My breath tickled her ear, and another shiver rolled through her. “Hmm, princess?”

For someone second in line to the throne, she had quite a bit of leeway in her comings and goings. But if King Edvard found out someone had kidnapped his precious granddaughter, he would have her under lock and key.

Bridget swallowed hard. “Does it matter? We want the same thing in the end. To maintain the status quo. You keep your reputation; I keep my freedom.”

Keep the status quo? Hardly.

It would be so easy to give in to the desire roaring through my veins, to wrap her hair around my fist and find out just how much heat she hid beneath that cool exterior. She wanted it as much as I did. I could hear it in her ragged breaths, see it in the way she looked at me, feel it in the slight arch of her body against mine.

Apparently, I wasn’t the only one riding high on anger and adrenaline.

Think with your big head, Larsen. Not your small one.

I closed my eyes and forced myself to silently count to five. When I opened them again, they clashed with Bridget’s.

Gray storms against blue skies.

“You got yourself a deal. But if you break it or go behind my back again…” My voice lowered, dark and full of unspoken threats. “You’ll find out the hard way what happens when you bargain with the devil.”





6





Bridget





Trial Month One

“You’re joking.” I pulled the black vest out of the package, letting it dangle from my fingers like a dirty piece of laundry.

Rhys sipped his coffee and didn’t look up from his newspaper. “I don’t joke about safety.”

“This is a bulletproof vest.”

“I’m aware. I bought it.”

Inhale. Exhale. “Mr. Larsen, please explain why I need a bulletproof vest. Where am I supposed to wear it, class? My next volunteer shift?”

“To protect you against bullets, and sure. If you’d like.”

A muscle twitched beneath my eye. It’d been a month since we agreed to our deal, and I got it. I’d messed up. I never should’ve snuck out with Ava, but she’d been so down about her relationship troubles with Alex and I’d wanted to cheer her up.

Obviously, it had backfired, big time.

The kidnapping incident had thrown a bucket of cold water over my previously rosy outlook on personal safety, and I was committed to acting more responsibly. I hated admitting when Rhys was right because he was such an arrogant ass about it most of the time, but he put his life on the line for me every day. However, he also seemed intent on making me renege on the deal by throwing the most outrageous suggestions my way.