Wicked Dirty (Stark World 2)

I cross my arms and glare.

"Fine," he says. "But right now, can we talk in private? And the two of them need to be able to keep a secret."

Greg steps forward. "Who the hell do you--"

"Please," I say, taking his arm. "You have to keep this to yourself. It's important."

"To him?"

"To me," I say. "And I really will fill you in, but later. Right now, I need you to do something for me."

It's his turn to cross his arms. "What?"

I turn to Lyle and hold out my hand. "Give me your keys."

He stares at me, clearly baffled by my out-of-context request.

I snap my fingers. "Now would be good."

To his credit, he drops them into my hand before he asks, "Why?"

"You're double-parked in front of my car, and you're going to end up getting towed. Greg's going to take your car to Totally Tattoo and leave it in the back with the keys under the mat." Cass is one of the few business owners with an actual parking area on her property. "You can tell Joy what's happened," I tell Greg. "And that Lyle will get the car soon, and I'll fill her in more later. They both know Lyle, so I don't think anyone will mind."

To his credit, Lyle doesn't balk at this plan.

"I don't like leaving you here like this," Greg says. "That mess outside? He's the one who set you up for that." He points an accusing finger at Lyle, who holds his hands up in defense.

"Please," I say, suddenly exhausted. "I really need--I just need to talk to Lyle alone."

"Fine," he says curtly.

"Thanks," I say, then give him a hug. "I'll explain everything later, okay?"

He doesn't look happy about it, but he nods, shoots Lyle a nasty glare, then heads out the front door.

The moment it shuts behind him, I lash out. "You son-of-a-bitch. I let you into my house--I bring you into my home--and you skulk out without even saying goodbye? In case you forgot, last night wasn't a commercial transaction. So how the hell do you think that made me feel?"

"I wanted to let you sleep."

I tilt my head and give him my look of doom. "You know what? Fuck it. Just go. I put on the little show for your reporters, and now I think we're done here." I start to push past him toward the kitchen.

"Wait." He reaches for my arm, but I twist out of his grasp. "Please. I really am sorry. I didn't mean--"

"What? To leave? I'm pretty sure you meant it."

He exhales, looking completely worn out. Then he walks past me and sits on my couch.

"Make yourself at home," I mutter as Skittles jumps onto his lap, curls up, and starts to purr.

I take a seat across from him on the coffee table, mostly because I want to see his eyes while we have this conversation. Except he doesn't start talking. "Well?"

"About this engagement thing, I swear I didn't--"

"Hold on, there, pal. We're still at the part where you left me in bed, wallowing in humiliation."

His exhaustion seems to shift into frustration, though whether it's aimed at me or at himself, I can't tell. "I apologized, Laine. Do you think I don't know I screwed up? That I hurt you? I get that. But I'm not used to this."

"Not used to what? Waking up next to a woman whose body you didn't pay for? Gee, I wonder why. Maybe it's because you're an emotional idiot who doesn't have a clue how to deal with a woman who's not on his goddamned payroll."