Something Like Hate - Harloe Rae Page 0,23
Winters is one that might prove futile.
But there’s no harm in scratching the surface.
I reinforce my soft heart against his barbs and shove onward. “Since you’re clearly not ready to move on, let’s whip up a hypothetical. What happens after I let you fuck me?”
That gets his attention. Landon straightens in his seat, the strict position alluding to him being all ears. “Let me? Sugar, you should be begging for my attention. Other women would kill to be in your position.”
I snort. “Wow, your arrogance has no limits.”
“How kind of you to notice,” he counters.
“Just for the record, I’m not sleeping with you.”
“Yet.”
“Ever.”
“We’ll see.”
I inhale a cleansing breath. His ability to dominate and alter the direction for our dialogue makes me queasy. “Tell me, how does one become so clinical when it comes to personal relationships?”
It’s his turn to grunt. “That’s a bold word choice. Sex is merely a physical act, and doesn’t require more than mutual permission. Pleasure is even questionable.”
“I would strongly disagree. Sharing your body with someone is a deeply personal experience.”
“Maybe for an emotional individual such as yourself.” The snarl in his tone makes me cringe. “And only if the purpose is to form an attachment.”
“For the sake of curiosity, how long will these shallow flings satisfy you?”
“Until my cock refuses to participate without medical intervention.” His complexion goes a tad gray around the edges.
“I hear those little blue pills are miracle workers.”
“My future impotence, if I ever succumb to such grotesque weakness, is none of your concern. Feed your curiosity elsewhere.” His discomfort only serves to fuel me.
“Don’t you want to find someone who makes you happy for more than one night?”
“That’s what my business partners are for. They make me very wealthy, which in turn gives me more joy than any temporary affair.”
“Everyone craves intimacy,” I reason.
“False, Savannah.” His eyebrows slice inward, the two dark slashes almost becoming one. “Love is a fool’s fantasy. Relationships are better off as bargaining chips.”
“Wow, you’re not jaded or anything.”
“That’s just reality, sugar. I was never given the courtesy to assume otherwise.”
It’s a struggle to maintain my composure. I’ve just stepped into a juicy pile worthy of suffering through this drivel. “What do you mean by that?”
“I’m a product of my environment.” His simple statement has zero chance of satisfying me.
“That’s not cryptic or anything.”
Landon’s scowl would make the devil shudder. “People in my position don’t have the luxury of dating for the fuck of it. Searching for a true match is juvenile. Not that the idea ever appealed to me, even at a young age.”
This is beginning to sound familiar, but I’m determined to uncover new intel. “So, you just magically stumble upon someone who meets criteria?”
“Don’t be dense,” he growls. “There’s an approved list to choose from. Don’t worry—I’m not lacking in the prospects department.”
I’m sure my expression reflects utter horror. My hopeless romantic soul is currently cowering in the corner. “Who’s orchestrating these unattainable guidelines? It sounds like nonsense to me.”
“That’s because you weren’t born with the expectations already in place.”
I furrow my brow. “Your parents?”
“They had an arrangement.” His reply is crisp and frosty.
“That feels so empty.” My stomach churns at the thought alone.
“Only if you’re careless enough to want more.”
“You’re trying to tell me these restrictions are for security reasons?”
Landon grinds his teeth, not spewing another syllable. I almost clench with the fear of him shutting down. Then he exhales a mouthful of pent-up frustration. “It goes well beyond that, as I’m sure you’re aware. Why are you fixated on this?”
“These customs are archaic. You must realize how backward this all sounds in modern times.”
“My practical choices amuse you?”
“Sure, let’s go with that. To be honest, it feels like I’m watching an episode of Reign.”
“I don’t know what that is.” That small confession seems to wound him as he turns his glare to a spot over my shoulder.
“A dramatic Renaissance period show about the royal hierarchy in Europe. It’s beginning to form a connection with your story.”
“My decisions have nothing to do with overtaking the throne. I already have it.” He swats at the air, clearing my ramblings away. “These traditions are steeped in power and stability and alliances. What would a common coupling provide me with?”
Even his explanation makes me nauseous. “I’m well aware of your opinion on the matter.”
His nostrils flare with a harsh breath. “Ah, yes. We discussed the sanctity of marriage at Josh’s wedding.”
“I learned a lot about you from that brief, one-sided chat.” And dealt with a curse