Page 7 of Bossy Wicked Prince

Pippa’s stepbrother, Ryan Archer, is a legendary playboy. Seriously, I don’t think a day goes by where there’s not an article about him hooking up with some model or socialite on The Toronto Tea. Granted, like any gossip blog, not everything you read there is true. But when it comes to Ryan, Pippa tells me there are no lies detected.

“I hope you weren’t stuck serving Ryan yesterday,” Pippa says.

I briefly consider telling her the whole saga of the waitress, the bully, and the grump. It’d be nice to unpack everything that happened. But Ialsodon’t want to deal with another self-appointed savior. Nate is enough, thanks.

So I give Pippa the abridged version.

“Long story, but basically I ended up in the elevator on Ryan’s poker floor.”

“Ah. So you probably met the whole Black Card Gallery, huh? All his pampered, billionaire besties.”

“No, I just saw them for a sec. The only one I actually talked to was Nate.”

Pippa laughs. “Nate? Let me guess, you talked and he answered exclusively in caveman grunts.”

“You know him then?”

“I know the whole sordid quintet. Some better than others. Nate not as well, but that’s only because the handful of times he was around visiting Ryan when we were both still living at home, he barely spoke more than two words to me.”

“Well, he talked to me. I wouldn’t say the man’s a chatterbox, but he wasn’t totally unfriendly. He even offered to walk me to my car.”

“You don’t have a car.”

“You’re missing the point.”

I’m met with complete silence.

“Hello?” I say, wondering if the call dropped.

“Oh no, I’m here, just…thinking. Let me clarify, Nate, as inNathaniel Walsh,made friendly conversation with you and then offered to walk you out?”

Her tone reeks of disbelief.

“Yep. In that order. I think he was just trying to be nice, Pips.” I can feel the defensiveness in my voice. “Is that so shocking?”

“Nate Walsh is notnice, Cat. He makes Darth Vader look like a Care Bear. He’s as grumpy and bossy as they come. As your designated wingwoman, I consider it my duty to tell you that you absolutely shouldn’t date him.”

My mouth falls open. “Whoa. Who said anything about dating him?”

“You didn’t have to. You’re not someone who casually fishes for information about a guy unless you think he’s hot. And granted, yes—Nate Walsh istrèssexy, and he’s a gazillionaire. That doesnotmean he’s at all dateable.”

“Fine,” I squeak out, spluttering for a response. “I might’ve noticed that from one to ten, he’s a thirteen, but I’m not exactly looking to date, Pippa. I’m way too busy.”

“Sure,” she deadpans. “Look, Nate’s not a total fuckboy like Ryan, but he still goes through women like Kleenex. He doesn’t keep them around longer than a night, and from what I hear, that’s on purpose. He doesn’t want them getting any ideas about going steady.”

My mouth drops open. That doesn’t sound like the guy I met last night, the one who thoughtfully offered to play bodyguard for me. Bossy, sure. Grumpy, definitely. But he didn’t seem like someone who was thoughtless about people’s feelings.

“Tuck that quiet disappointment away, kitty Cat. You deserve better than being the soup du jour and then discarded like yesterday’s takeout.”

“It’s fine,” I say, probably too quickly. “Moving on.”

“Unless you’re into getting railed in a luxury bed and then never talking to the guy again,” she jokes. “I mean, if you are, then by all means, live your best life.”

For the first time all day, a real smile spreads across my face. Pippa might be all fire on the outside, but inside she’s as melty as a campfire marshmallow, especially when it comes to her friends. And I’m lucky to be one of them.

“Don’t worry. I’m in no danger of falling for him,” I reassure her. “He probably won’t even talk to me next time he stops by the restaurant.”

I’m surprised to feel a pang of disappointment at the admission, because I know it’s true. Someone like me is nobody to a guy like Nate Walsh.