Page 53 of Bossy Wicked Prince

“Hey Nate, are you in or not?” Beau demands, interrupting my thoughts.

Looking up, I realize that I’m the only one who hasn’t thrown in my ante. I toss my cards onto the table. “I’m out.”

James prods my elbow with his. “What’s up with you? You’ve been distracted all night.”

Fuck. James is the quietest of us all, and by far the most observant. But he’s also the coldest and sometimes cruelest motherfucker I know, so if he’s the one asking, he’s legitimately worried.

“It’s nothing,” I say quickly.

“It’s a girl,” Ryan says. “The Toronto Tea says you were getting all cozy with some woman in New York.”

“You read that fucking gossip blog?” I scoff.

“Hell yeah, I do!” Ryan leans back in his chair, hands behind his head, totally unashamed. “Whoever writes it, they’re obsessed with printing stories about us. They’re hysterical.”

“They’re mostly bullshit,” Luke says.

“That’s what makes them funny. Nothing brightens up my Monday like reading about how James knocked up Margot Robbie and Jennifer Lawrence in a coke-fueled threesome.”

James rolls his eyes. “Ridiculous. Jen and Margot are costarring in a movie for Sequel. Some jerk snuck pictures of us at a business dinner, and suddenly it’s all the Toronto Tea can talk about.”

“See? He reads it, too!” Ryan points at James.

“No, I don’t,” James replies coldly, like the‘The Villain’the Toronto Tea likes to refer to him as . “My publicist assembles clippings from everyone who writes about me. It’s business.”

“So, who’s the woman?” Luke asks. When I glare at him, he shrugs. “What? After all that build-up, I’m curious.”

Four pairs of eyes are fixed on me. Even James looks mildly interested, the traitor. If I try and put off answering any longer, it’s only going to make them grill me harder.

“You know Caitlin Daniels, the waitress at Terrace Steakhouse?” I sip my whiskey, trying to look disinterested. “We talked about her looking for work while she was staying with me, and I hired her as my assistant. That’s why you’ve seen us together. Nothing exciting.”

“But shehasa job,” Beau says. “With me. I know for a fact she’s not underpaid.”

“She’s too good a person. She gives away probably half of what she makes to this homeless shelter where she volunteers.”

Ryan barks a laugh. “So she’s basically a saint, and way too good for you.”

I narrow my eyes. “I’m herboss.”

“So you haven’t noticed how hot she is,” Beau says. When I scowl at him, he grins. “What? I’m her boss too, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have eyes. Cat’s got that sunshine vibe, you know? Always smiling. Got those big doe eyes and even bigger heart, but I can tell kitty’s got some claws, too? Am I right? Man, she’s exactly your type.”

“I don’t have a type.”

“Please, we all have types,” Ryan says. “James goes for ice queens because he doesn’t have a heart, Beau wants the girl next door, but without the strings attached, and Luke likes a challenge. Someone out of his league. A little spitfire. Isn’t that right, Luke?”

“What’s your type, then?” James asks before Luke can answer.

Ryan smiles. “Hot girls. All flavors. My mind is open. And if you don’t want Cat, maybe I’ll take a shot.”

“No,” Beau and I say in unison, and Ryan raises his hands in mock surrender.

“Fine, fine. Let’s get back to the game so I can take all your chips.”

When the other three guys are drawn into a hand, James leans toward me.

“Tell me,” he murmurs. “You and your assistant—are you sure you know what you’re doing there?”

No.