The Bossy Prince (Rugged and Royal #3) - Lili Valente Page 0,4
my eyes, shooting hateful laser beams at him as we round the girl with the glow sticks and start toward the stage. “On second thought, I think I’ll take the bus home.”
“Are you sure? Nadia will want a report. It’ll be easier if we do it together.”
“Goodbye.” I veer to the right, but Nick catches my upper arm in his large hand, pulling me back beside him.
“Oh, come on. Don’t be a poor sport. I’ll be a fabulous boss. I promise. We’re going to get along famously, just as we used to. Remember that month at the lake when we were small? We were inseparable. You always came up with the best games. I thought you were the coolest person I’d ever met.”
“And I thought you were an annoying baby I tolerated because Lizzy and Sabrina were too shy to play in front of your brothers.”
He laughs. “See there? Look how much we have in common.”
I huff. “Like what?”
“We’d both rather play than sit on the sidelines, and we both grew up to be spies. What are the odds?” He beams down at me. “This is going to be great.”
It is not going to be great. Having Nick as a brother-in-law was bad enough, but having him as a boss…
I honestly almost wish he’d turned out to be an idiot with a gambling addiction. At least that’s a problem I could have solved.
But this?
This is a disaster. A nightmare coming true.
But instead of confessing I’d rather be covered in peanut butter and attacked by carnivorous ants than be outranked by him, I bite the inside of my lip and keep my mouth shut. I will bide my time, keep my eyes open, and wait for a chance to undo this tragic sequence of events.
Either Nick will prove himself unfit for his new office in some way or…
Or something.
I’ll figure it out.
But until I do, I have to be civil to him while we’re on the job.
Once we’re off the clock, however…
Well, then I fully intend to let him know I loathe him like damp socks on a cold winter’s day.
Chapter Two
Alexandra
Present Day…
“Zan! Earth to Zan!”
I’m pulled from my thoughts by my nemesis calling my name from the hot tub. I glance over, and he laughs.
“Hey there, space cadet,” he says. “Should we send a search and rescue team to the doorway?”
“That won’t be necessary,” I snap, my jaw clenching as I attempt to glare a hole through his forehead.
He laughs again, as unfazed by my irritation as he’s been all weekend. “Then come on, silly. You must be freezing. Hop in and warm up.” His eyes glitter into mine, and a smug smile curves his lips, almost as if he knows that I was just thinking about the kiss we shared and how much I hated it.
I really did hate it.
I hated it so much that I think about doing it again at least once a day. Sometimes more, if I’m unlucky enough to spend any portion of that day with Nickolas Von Bergen.
Dammit.
Nick’s smile widens. “I promise not to seek revenge if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ve totally forgotten that you almost drowned me when we were small.”
“I haven’t.” I force an equally obnoxious grin. “If only we could turn back time…”
Nick winces in faux pain and presses a hand to his chest. “Ouch. You wound me, Zan-Wan.”
I bat my lashes, my smile still in place. “Call me by a stupid nickname again, and you’ll wake up tomorrow without a single hair on your head.”
He winks. “Promise? I’ve been thinking a buzz cut might be a nice way to ring in the new year.”
“Stop it, you two,” Andrew says, heaving a sigh from the other side of the bubbling tub. “You’re upsetting Sabrina.”
My sister snuggles closer to Andrew’s side. “Oh, pish. I’m not upset. I’ve had too much champagne and birthday cake to be upset.” She kisses Andrew’s lightly scruffy cheek. “Thank you for the perfect triple-birthday surprise, baby.”
“Yes, thank you, Andrew,” I add, meaning it. I can’t remember the last time anyone outside our triplet-trio went out of their way for our birthdays. Even our parents usually just ordered takeout from the bistro in the village and stuck a few candles in the freezer-burned ice cream we forgot to throw away at the end of the summer. “It was the best birthday in years.”
“Aw, see, there it is,” Nick says, his voice low and husky. “Every bitter little pill has a soft and gooey center.”