Taming London (Warwick Dragons #1) - Milly Taiden Page 0,17

it up again, she was going to make sure the sex would be explosive, or she would very quickly swipe left.

Get me there or get out.

That was her new motto.

When the guard finally left her to her own devices, free to roam the exhibit and measure out where she would put tables and such, Bethany fell into the easy groove of her job. Organizing and planning things always made her happy. It was all about seeing a space that, for all intents and purposes, shouldn’t work as a venue for a benefit, and make it work. She loved seeing untapped potential and finding creative ways to set things up. It spoke to a deep part of herself. She often wondered if her organizational brain came from her father.

Organizing and setting the scene for a benefit didn’t have anything on photography, but her dad had always known how to organize his shots. How to angle things just so. He could take a scenery that seemed boring and bland and make it shine. His pictures had been responsible for making some spots downright famous. Organizing made her feel close to him.

It was with a small smile on her face that she stepped away from one of the galleries. She wanted to see the full space from all of the different angles. The beginnings of an idea was forming in the back of her head. She was moments away from getting that flash of inspiration that made everything click together.

She was breathless as she waited for it, holding onto her faith and hope that she knew what she was doing. That she was competent.

“Did you get my gift?”

Well, fuck.

Bethany twirled on herself, completely irritated and frustrated by the rude interruption. Of course it would be London Warwick who would ruin this moment for her. She scowled at him before crossing her arms. She added an annoyed tapping foot, but he barely even seem to register the fact that he had bothered her.

He was smiling at her with confidence and expectations.

He was about to be seriously surprised.

If his smugness was an indication that he was proud of the business cards he had gifted her, he didn’t know her at all. That went without saying, but Bethany didn’t like to think that this man had sized her up and decided that a few hundred business cards would placate her.

“You mean the guilt-assuaging business cards you had made for my business? Yes. I got them.”

London frowned at her. “Guilt-assuaging?” he questioned as he took a step closer to her. His face had darkened. He wasn’t shocked, but rather seemed genuinely confused. For fuck’s sake, he was a hopeless case. How she was going to turn his image around, Bethany had no idea.

“You heard me,” she answered. She enunciated every syllable clearly for dramatic effect. “Guilt-assuaging. I get it, I do. I feel really bad for you that you’ve learned that throwing money at someone you’ve wronged makes it all go away. But that’s not how apologies work, Mr. Warwick. You thought you would send me the business cards and what? I would fall onto my knees with gratitude? Or better yet.” She met his gaze dead on. “Ride your dick in appreciation?” She didn’t miss the way he inhaled sharply at her words. His tanned cheeks colored. “No. That kind of low trick won’t work with me. Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have work to do.”

She wanted to punch the air with victory. She was overly pleased with herself that she had been able to throw his words back at her in such a way. She felt powerful for the first time in his presence. It was something she could get accustomed to. Bethany stepped around him, ignoring him as he whispered her name animatedly. She didn’t know him enough to garner if he had actually meant the apologetic pitch of his voice. It didn’t matter. Not really.

He had behaved horribly by assuming that she wanted to sleep with him. She had, of course. Her crush on him was burning bright, and she was still working very hard to ignore the way he looked in his well-fitting suit. His wide shoulders tapered down to a trim waist, one she had seen naked with her own eyes. She was still very much wondering what the roman numerals he had tattooed on his chest meant. But she wouldn’t allow herself to think of such things when she was in his presence. It was too dangerous. He was