The Bossy Prince (Rugged and Royal #3) - Lili Valente Page 0,38
his penetrating looks, the ones that make my stomach flip and my nerve endings sizzle. “But she thought it would be a bad idea.”
I stiffen. “She thinks I want to murder you, too?”
“Not at all.” He crosses the room, stopping close enough for the clean, delicious scent of him to drift to my nose. “She thinks you’re more fragile than you let on.”
“What?” I laugh, but he doesn’t break, and my grin fades. “You’re serious?”
“I’m serious.” He reaches out, brushing a loose hair back into my bun. “She thinks you’ve got a delicate heart hidden beneath your tough cookie layers. One which might be easy to break.”
I blink, not knowing what’s more shocking—his mother’s opinion of me or the way my throat is tightening in response to his words. “That’s ridiculous,” I say, but my voice is rough, and I don’t sound nearly as sure of myself as I’d like.
“That’s what I told her,” he says, but he’s watching me so closely it’s unnerving.
And annoying.
I step back, flicking loose the hair he tried to tame. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. She won’t ever find out about this. Tell Andrew and Jeffrey there’s been a misunderstanding and that we’ll explain everything when we get home. I’ll text Sabrina and ask her to sweet-talk Beatrice into keeping quiet, and then you and I can focus on more pressing matters—like getting Beatrice away from Stefano before it’s too late.”
Nick crosses his arms over his chest. “I’ll text Andrew and Jeffrey and tell them to mind their own damned business. But yes, the rest of that sounds good.”
I roll my eyes. “Why? Because you don’t want your big brothers telling you what to do?”
“Because I’m a grown man, and you’re a grown woman, and their texts were condescending. And insulting.”
I nibble my bottom lip before I admit, “They were condescending.”
“And insulting.”
I sigh. “Yes, that too, but they mean well. They love you, and they love my sisters, and they just want what’s best.”
“Not what’s best for me,” he says. “They can’t want what’s best for me because they don’t know me. Not the man I truly am. They know what I choose to show them. What it’s safe to show them. It’s the same with you and your sisters.”
I lift my chin, holding his gaze, silently weighing the risk before I ask, “Does that bother you? If so, you know you could…make a change. There wouldn’t be any shame in finding other work. You’ve already made a substantial contribution to the safety and well-being of the continent.”
“I don’t want to find other work,” he says, crushing my hope that convincing him to step away from the spy life will be easy. “But I’m also not going to take my brother’s advice when I know it’s misguided. Besides, they’re totally off-base. You and I have loads of things in common.”
I arch a brow. “We do?”
“We’re both committed to our jobs and our families. We’re both willing to make sacrifices in our personal lives for the greater good. We both love to travel and ski and figure people out, and you’re the only woman I’ve met who can eat birthday cake as quickly as I can.”
Before I can respond, my stomach offers its own long, low, rumbly reply.
I wrinkle my nose, and Nick smiles. “Sorry,” he says. “I doubt they’ll have cake tonight. Stefano isn’t big on dessert. Always watching his figure.”
“Maybe that will be the end of things with Beatrice. She’s a fan of pie for breakfast. Or cake. Or pie and cake if that’s doable.”
He shrugs. “I would certainly consider that an irreconcilable difference. I’m sure Bea’s not big on kidnapping young women and selling them into sex slavery, either.”
“But we can’t tell her that.” I squeeze my eyes shut as my breath rushes out. “We have to get her away from him, Nick. It’s like watching a kitten climb into a shark’s mouth.”
“I don’t think sharks and kittens share a habitat.”
I open my eyes and offer dryly, “Neither should Stefano and Beatrice.”
“Point taken.” He nods toward the door. “We should go. They’re used to me running late, but not too late.”
I sigh and collect my purse from the bench at the end of the bed.
“Don’t worry,” Nick says, rubbing a hand gently up and down my back as I straighten, the touch both fizz-inducing and comforting at the same time, which means this can’t be over soon enough.
Attraction is one thing. Craving the comfort of someone’s touch is something else entirely—something even more dangerous.