In Bed with the Beast (Naughty Princess Club 2)

“Sorry! I’m sorry! I do that when I’m nervous,” he tells me, laughing apprehensively as he holds both his hands up in the air and I take a huge drink of my wine.

“I know. You’ve already told me that. There’s no reason to be nervous. Why don’t you tell me a little more about yourself? Where do you work?”

He starts rambling about his job in accounting, talking ad nauseam about spreadsheets, numbers, and math until I’m zoning out and not listening to a word he says.

Who the hell does Vincent think he is, acting like that? I know I did something stupid, and I know it was a horrible thing to do, breaking his trust like that, but how dare he speak to me the way he did! How dare he yell at me and throw a damn vase! I hope he feels like an idiot. I hope he’s sitting there all alone in that house, regretting every word he said to me. He’s going to have to do a lot of groveling to get me to forgive him this time.

I can’t believe I’m even thinking about forgiving that man after the way he behaved. But underneath all that anger was hurt. Complete and utter pain that I deceived him on purpose, and that’s what makes it impossible for me to just walk away from him and never go back. That, and the fact that I have nowhere else to live. I want to know why it made him so upset that I went into that room, aside from the fact that I picked the lock and went in when he strictly told me not to. It was more than me just defying his orders. I could see it written all over his face. I want to know why he would hide something as beautiful and amazing as a home library. It just doesn’t make any sense. There has to be more to it than just his stupid rule that I defied. And I want to know why he’d kiss me like that and say it would never go any further and that it was a stupid lapse in judgment. I may not have much experience with kissing, but I know I felt that thing down to my toes, and that’s not something that would happen if it were just a mistake.

“And there’s nothing more satisfying than when all the numbers add up, let me tell you,” Dusty says, bringing me out of my thoughts as he once again reaches over and rests his hand on one of my butt cheeks.

I open my mouth to tell him to remove it, when suddenly a low, angry voice right next to me cuts through the hum of conversation around us.

“Remove your hand from her ass before I rip it from your body and beat the shit out of you with it.”

My stomach drops as my head whips around to find Vincent standing a foot away, shooting a murderous look at poor Dusty. The man is intelligent enough to yank his hand off of me and take a few steps back, bumping into a couple seated on stools behind him.

“I’m sorry, sir! It’s a nervous twitch thing, I swear!” Dusty hastily explains, moving away from the bar and walking backwards, where he bumps into another group of people.

The shock at Vincent being here finally wears off, and anger takes over as I slam my glass of wine down on the bar and put my hands on my hips.

“What the hell are you doing here?!” I shout.

“I followed you. And clearly I’m saving you from this asshole,” Vincent replies, not even glancing over at me as he continues to glare at Dusty, whose face is now covered in a thin sheen of nervous sweat.

“I don’t need you to save me, and he’s not an asshole! You’re an asshole!” I reply in annoyance.

“Did you ask him to grab your ass?” he asks, finally looking over at me with one eyebrow raised.

“I . . . I . . . no! Of course not! But—”

“Then I’m saving you from this asshole.”

He looks away from me and takes a menacing step towards Dusty.

“Get the fuck out of here and never call her again,” Vincent growls.

Dusty’s right arm immediately flies out, grabbing the butt of a woman standing right next to him.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! It’s a nervous twitch!” he quickly apologizes to the woman when she whirls around and shoots him a dirty look as he backs away, tripping over his own two feet and bumping into a bar table, knocking over a few glasses.

Vincent growls at him again, and Dusty turns and runs out of the bar, pushing and shoving people out of his way as he goes. When he disappears out the front door, Vincent visibly relaxes and turns around to face me.