Page 99 of Bossy Wicked Prince

She frowns. “How do you know that?”

“It’s happened before, to me and my friends. The Tea has a video of Beau drunkenly dancing to Sabrina Carpenter and plenty of photos of Ryan bringing girls home. If you’re a publicfigure, sometimes there are eyes on you when you don’t expect it.”

“But I’m not a public figure,” she says, blinking.

I choose my words carefully. “Now that you’re…associated with me, you are. At least the picture they got is harmless.”

“Maybe to you, but not to me. You might be used to the spotlight, but I’m not, and I don’t like being watched.”

I feel a twinge of guilt, knowing that she’s been watched plenty of times without her knowing. Not by photographers, but by me.

Cat’s not done yet, either. “You must like all the reporters, or you would have made them go away by now. Admit it, you enjoy being famous for being rich, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I tell her honestly. “I don’t care what strangers know about me, but it’s good publicity for UPS. When I’m in the papers, so is my company. I have publicists to shoot down anything terribly embarrassing, but if the Toronto Tea wants to show me walking through an airport, so be it.”

“Is money more important than your privacy?” she snaps. “Seriously, how much more successful does UPS have to be? When will it be enough? Or do rich people just get obsessed with acquiring more and more, never thinking about whether they deserve it?”

“I know I don’t deserve it,” I say. “I’m well aware of all the ways where I fall short.”

Cat’s mouth falls open. She looks lost for what to say. I don’t want to hear her argue with me—I know it’s the truth. I’ve failed many people in my life. I might work hard, but I know that no amount of work would justify why I should have everything, while people like Cat, who are genuinely good and generous, are scrounging for their next paycheck.

I know the world’s not fair. But maybe I can even the scales.

One of Cat’s curls falls forward onto her face, and I can’t resist reaching to push it back behind her ear. I’ve been trying so hard to keep my distance from her—I don’t want to push her into something she doesn’t want. The second I see her stiffen or pull away, I’ll back off.

But she doesn’t. Cat’s eyes go hazy when my fingers graze her ear.

So I push it further. I can’t help it—the tension between us is killing me.

“Maybe someone as beautiful and kind as youshouldbe in the spotlight, Kitten.” I rub the back of her neck, running my thumb up into curls at the base of her head. “You’re right, wealth shouldn’t be what makes people famous. It should all be people like you, who actually make a difference.”

She shakes her head. “No thanks. I’ve got no interest in being famous.”

Cat has no idea how refreshing that is in my world. I’ve seen plenty of women target my friends, dreaming of a relationship that will raise their follower count, especially James as a famous CEO and Ryan, both as a poker player and as the one-time boyfriend of a few A-listers.

Leaning over, I kiss her neck, loving the smell of her skin.

“Whenyou’re famous,” I tease, “I’ll change the media’s mind about you. I’ll make sure everyone knows how generous, hardworking, and forgiving you are.”

She sighs, shivering against my lips. “Nate…”

I hover above the skin at the curve of her neck, whispering against it. I’m almost afraid to ask, but I have to. “Color, Kitten?”

Her chest rises and falls as I grow dizzy from the scent of her. From the feel of her in my hands.

Please, Kitten…

Please.

“Fuck,” she murmurs. “Pink?—”

Before she can say any more, I shut her up with a kiss. She’s so surprised, it takes her a second to kiss me back. But once she does, I’m done for.

She climbs out of her seat and into mine, her knees on either side of my hips. Her fingers weave into my hair, tugging it hard at the roots. Her mouth is hot and angry and sweet, kissing with a forcefulness I’ve never felt from her.

One I’m more than happy to return.

My fingers dig into her ass, pressing just hard enough that it won’t bruise. Her back arches and her breasts graze my chest. Her shirt rides up a little, and I take the opportunity to stroke her bared lower back. She feels so perfect, like her body was made to fit against my hands.