In Bed with the Beast (Naughty Princess Club 2)

Looking down at the phone in my hand, I pull up Ariel from my contacts list.

“So, I’ll call in you in a few days,” Gus tells me.

“What the hell for?” I ask, hitting dial and bringing the phone up to my ear.

“For a second date, obviously. You’re okay looking, I guess. And it wasn’t the most boring evening I’ve ever had,” he shrugs.

“You have got to be kidding me,” I mutter, turning away from him as the phone begins to ring.

As soon as I start to walk away from him, I feel a sharp slap on my ass.

“Don’t call me, I’ll call you, babe.”

Ariel finally answers the phone as I slowly turn back around to shoot Gus a murderous look.

“Pick me up immediately. And bring bail money,” I growl into the phone.

Chapter 12: I’m the Boss of Me

I’m still cursing and muttering under my breath when I walk through Vincent’s front door an hour later. I slam the door closed so hard it rattles the door frame, and for a second, that makes me feel a little bit better.

“Where the hell have you been?”

There goes my one-second good mood.

Vincent pops up from the couch and stalks over to me. Why does he always have to look so good? It makes being angry with him incredibly difficult. In his usual pair of well-worn jeans, stocking feet, and a long-sleeved white Henley, as well as the scruff on his face and his dark brown, choppy hair that falls into his eyes and over his ears, he is the exact opposite of that idiot Gus in every way.

“You know damn well where I’ve been, and it’s only eleven o’clock,” I fire back, leaning against the door to remove the heels from my aching feet. “Why aren’t you at work?”

The only good thing about this evening is that after my initial humiliating fall before I left, I walked like a pro on these damn things all night. Not that Gus even cared or noticed.

“I took the night off. What’s wrong with your hand?”

Of course he notices the way I’m gingerly cradling my right hand to my stomach while I use the left one to remove my shoes. I toss them onto the floor and push away from the door.

“Nothing. It’s fine.”

I move to walk around him, and he blocks my path with his giant body. When he grabs my hand and pulls it away from my body, I let out a yelp.

“Christ, what the hell did you do?”

“I said it’s fine! My date got a little handsy, and I may or may not have broken his nose.”

As soon as I hung up on Ariel, I pulled my arm back and slammed it into Gus’s face. Even though I might have broken my own hand in the process, there was nothing more satisfying that listen to him scream like a girl and collapse into a ball on the sidewalk, crying and carrying on so much we attracted a large crowd of people. I slowly backed away from the gathering and waited by the curb until Ariel showed up a few minutes later. I made her pull away before I told her what happened, afraid she’d fly out of the car and break every other bone in his body.

“That son of a bitch,” Vincent growls. “Give me his name and address right now.”

“Are you insane?! Besides, I don’t know where he lives, and as I just told you, I took care of it. I’m pretty sure he’s still curled up in the fetal position in front of Bella Rosa, crying like a baby.”

I don’t tell Vincent that Cindy and Ariel have a copy of his driver’s license and know exactly where he lives. He looks so angry I’m afraid he might go over there and kill the guy.

Here lies Tone. Gus Tone. A teeth sucker, ass smacker, and all around douchebag.

A hysterical giggle flies out of my mouth, and Vincent shakes his head at me, a little of the fury that was all over his face a few seconds ago disappearing. He gently wraps his hand around my upper arm and tugs me into the kitchen. I’m so tired and mentally exhausted that I don’t even put up a fight. He silently opens the freezer door and presses a bag of frozen peas to my red, swollen knuckles. I wince when it first makes contact with my skin, then let out a sigh of relief when the pain starts to lessen.

“No more blind dates. Ever.”

My relief is short-lived, and I square my shoulders and stare him down. Well, technically up, since I’m not wearing heels and now he’s towering over me.

“Listen, buddy. I’ve had to spend my entire life dealing with one overbearing, overprotective, demanding man. I’m not about to let another guy tell me what I can and can’t do, so you can just take your orders and shove them up your ass!” I shout, taking a step closer to him and poking him in his solid chest with my pointer finger. “You’re not the boss of me! No one is the boss of me! I AM THE BOSS OF ME!”