me around the floor as though he was a prince who’d come to rescue me from my monotonous existence.
“You’re not my type, Pandora.”
His words hit me like a bullet to the chest. My heart shattered into a thousand pieces. “Why would you say that?”
“We should at least be honest with each other, right?” He took another long drag.
“What’s your type, then?”
“Certainly not a spoiled little brat of a girl.”
“I’m a woman.”
“You’re twenty.”
“And I’m not spoiled.”
He rolled his eyes. “Maybe we’ll grow to like each other.”
“I thought you already did—like me, I mean.”
He snubbed out his cigarette in the ceramic bowl.
“They’re making you marry me?” I asked softly.
He stared at me like I’d just asked a stupid question.
I held my breath for a beat. “Maybe you should forget about me and find a woman that’s your type.”
“That door’s closed.”
“I’m still holding out for my one true love.” It was cruel, but he’d been crueler.
The air chilled and the weight of his accusatory stare squeezed my heart.
“Maybe my father can help us, Damien. Help us break apart. Release a statement that lands well.”
“Your father has an agenda.” His expression softened. “This is how it’s done.”
“They want to see me happy—”
“Yet you’re standing in my fucking kitchen.”
I let out a long sigh. “What if I refuse to marry you?”
“Have you any idea how many people’s lives will be affected if you disobey?”
“My mother—”
“I’m not talking about your family. I’m talking about years of decisions that all led to this moment—” He gestured to me and then himself. “We’re standing here with our future set.”
I shrugged off his jacket and threw it over a barstool. “How about you call that helicopter back so I can leave?”
“And now you bore me.” He slid another cigarette out of the packet.
“You should know I can’t stand smoking.”
He tilted his head with an arrogance I was accustomed to and then lit the end of his cigarette, blowing out another stream of smoke. “Why did you run out on me at the party, Miss Bardot?” he asked, making my last name sound like a curse.
“Your mother doesn’t like me.”
“That’s not what I asked.” He rounded the counter to get closer.
Raising my head high, I stayed silent.
“Okay, then.” Damien towered over me. “What did she say? She’s entertaining when in full bitch-mode.”
“Maybe it was the champagne that made her say those things.”
“What things?”
“Your mother hinted you might take a lover. Is it true?”
The tip of his tongue moistened his upper lip. “When did she say that?”
“Tonight.”
She, too, could be a spinner of words that cut to the bone.
“You insulted her by walking out on us. I imagine she was waiting for an apology.”
“She’s had a long wait.”
He buried his tongue in his cheek, finding my anger amusing.
“Your mother upset me,” I said. “The thought of us not having a proper marriage was too much. I went out to get some air.”
“In my BMW?”
“I needed to sit somewhere quiet to think.”
He reached around and cupped my ass, dragging my body against his. “I adore your feistiness. You know that, right?”
“The way you treat me…”
“Think you can change me?”
The sensual pressure from his fingers and the bulge in his pants that rubbed against my belly sent an erotic shiver through me.
“The rumors about you are true, then?” I asked, sounding breathless.
“Keep going. I feed off your hate, Pandora.”
Actually, the rumors of him had been favorable. He was the bachelor to bag, apparently. I wasn’t going to tell him that and bolster his already inflated ego.
My lips pressed together, defiantly refusing a kiss.
His eyes lit up. “Seeing you like this arouses me.”
I turned my head, refusing to look at him. “I don’t like it here.”
“Want to go back to my father’s place?”
“When hell freezes over, maybe.”
He pulled away from me, his cigarette dangling from his mouth as he rolled up his shirt sleeves, revealing muscled forearms that flexed. Moving to the sink, he washed his hands with his back to me.
I let my admiring gaze roam over his form. I could see the hint of a muscled back underneath his pristine white shirt and a tight ass beneath his pants. Closing my eyes, I imagined what it would be like to walk up and press myself against him, pretending we liked each other. Then again, his touch felt like sin; tainting the only good that was left in me.
He brought out several packets of crackers and chips and set them on the counter, then withdrew a cheeseboard from the fridge and set the