Wild Thing (Naughty Things 3)

Goods. I huff. Thanks a lot, Mason whoever-you-are. It’s every girl’s dream to be referred to as goods. Still, he’s the only chance I have. I showed him the bedroom and planted all the right seeds in his head. Now… what will he do with that information?

“So you’re gonna hold up your end, Mr. Baylor.”

“Or what?” my stepfather challenges. I creep a few steps closer, getting a look at them through the French doors that lead into the office.

“I don’t make threats,” Mason says. His shirt is untucked and his hair is mussed up and sexy from all our various interactions last night.

“Oh, Lyssa,” my stepfather says, spying me spying on them. “There you are.” He smiles at me. “You look well.” Then he tilts his head. “Are you well?”

I take a few more steps, see another man standing in the office—someone I don’t know but who looks a lot like an accountant, if I had to make an assumption—and enter the office so I can be closer to Mason one last time before he leaves.

“I’m fine,” I say, letting out a long breath with the words.

“Good,” my stepfather says. “This is Mr. Lanrey,” he says, pointing to the accountant.

“So?” I say. Fully aware that was rude, but not caring. Because Mr. Lanrey is looking at me with disgust. Or maybe contempt. Or possibly true revulsion.

“He’s your tutor,” my stepfather explains. Saying the words slowly like I’m challenged in the area of understanding the English language.

I am instantly a million more times irritated than I was two seconds ago. “Tutor for what?” I snap. “Does getting married to Dickerson Worthington require some kind of entrance exam? Because if so, I think I’ll fail on purpose.”

My stepfather scowls at me. “Why do you always act this way?”

“Why do you always act this way?” I snarl back. “You hired someone to drug me. Kidnap me. Drag me here, even though I didn’t want to come, and you knew I didn’t want to come.”

“You’re marrying that boy. You’ve known that for over a year now. You accepted his ring. You are not calling this off.”

“Or what?” I challenge him the way he just did Mason.

“You know what,” he responds. Then he turns to the accountant and says, “Take her somewhere. Anywhere. Just get her out of my sight.”

Lanrey comes towards me, reaching for my arm. But I take a step back and say, in the calmest voice I can muster—because everything depends on being calm right now—“Do not. Touch me.”

“Miss Baylor,” Lanrey says. He’s tall, and kinda skinny. He could be a waiter at a fancy restaurant, maybe. He’s kinda dressed like that. “Please,” he says, folding his hands at his waist and leaning forward a little, as if in a bow. “Take me on a tour of the home so I can get acclimated.”

“Tour of the home?” I ask, raising one eyebrow at my stepfather.

“He’ll be staying here with you until the wedding. I’ve hired him to change you from an unruly, wild brat into a compliant, obedient wife.”

“Is that so?” I ask, continuing to raise that one eyebrow.

I don’t even bother looking at Mason for help. He’s clearly had enough and my dreamy feelings about him have suddenly faded. He’s got one foot out the door, as they say. Whatever disagreement he’s having with my stepfather over money will be sorted and then he’ll be satisfied and leave. He’ll forget all about me.

And why should I care? For real, why? He’s just another stranger in a long line of people my stepfather has brought in and out of my life since I was six.

Just another employee who sees something and decides not to say something because of my last name.

“And,” I add, picking back up with the conversation I’m having with my asshole stepfather, “what if I don’t want to be a compliant, obedient wife? What then? Is there an option B hiding behind door number two?”

“No,” my stepfather says, turning to look down at his open briefcase on the office desk. Like the matter is now closed.

But is the matter closed?

I think not.

So I turn and smile at the waiter who might be an accountant. “I’d be delighted to show you around, Mr. Lanrey.”

Then I do a little curtsey.

Lanrey blushes, chuckles, then looks at my stepfather. Like maybe my good-girl manners just got him hard and now he’s not quite sure what to do.

“Go ahead,” my stepfather says. “I have business with Mr. Macintyre.”

Macintyre. Holy shit. The hot kidnapper’s name is Mason Macintyre.

It’s quite nice. Quite sexy too. It’s like his parents asked themselves, What name could we possibly give our new boy child that will make him irresistible to every woman ever?

Whew. That was it. Good choice, Mr. and Mrs. Macintyre.

The only way to make this guy hotter is to put him on a fire truck decked out in fireman gear.