Page 101 of Handsome Devil

“Fuck you,” I spat.

“Nowshe is getting it.”

Yet I didn’t leave. I didn’t say no. I didn’t argue. Deep down, I wanted it. Knew it was inevitable. And I loved the way he pulled me out of my comfort zone. How he molded me into this fearless, feisty creature. One who pressed daggers to his throat and outsmarted mobsters. He lured me into his own Wonderland, into a sink-or-swim situation, and I swam.

“Glad we’re on the same page.” Tate interpreted my silence as compliance, giving me his back. “Get dressed. Something with easy access, of course.”

“E-easy access?”

“No tights,” he explained. “Unless you don’t mind them being ruined.”

I was already halfway across the room when he asked, “Oh, and, Gia?”

“Yes?” I turned around to see he still had his back to me.

“Wear something modest, unless you want your dress stained by other people’s blood.”

The golden Mikado dress I swathed myself in had one purpose and one purpose only—to piss Tate off.

The plan worked better than I anticipated. As soon as I slipped into the limo, his gaze alone seared me into ash.

“What in thefuckis this?” he demanded.

“Your sweet undoing?” I pouted, giving him my best angelic look.

“I told you I’ll ruin any indecent dress you wear with the blood of your admirers.”

“And I’m tellingyouthat gold and burgundy go exceptionally well together. Look, I even wore my Louboutins.” I flung one leg in the air to reveal a rubicund-hued heel. “To be fair, it’s full length and reaches past my ankles.” I planted my derriere on the crème leather seat.

“To be fair, the strapless corset barely covers your nipples,” he retorted, mimicking my English accent. “Your tits jiggle every time you breathe.”

I pressed my lips together, trying hard not to giggle.

“Don’t you dare laugh.” He erected a finger in my direction. “Your tits will be dancing in that thing, and I’ll have no choice but to kill everyone in the vicinity.”

“Only when I sit down. The corset sort of rides up. Anyway, we’re alone.” I gestured around us. Iven was all the way in the front with his back to us. The partition was open, but that could be remedied.

“Not for long.” Tate sat back with his legs spread open, reaching for his cigar box. “We’re picking up Row and that thing.”

“That thingis called Cal, and she is one of my best friends.” I scrunched my nose. “Anyway, what do they have to do with the Ferrantes?”

“Row’s in charge of the catering.”

“I hadn’t realized he offered this service.”

“He hadn’t either. But then a two-million-dollar offer in cash came along, and his schedule magically cleared.”

I was definitely friends with people outside my tax bracket.

“Go upstairs and change.” Tate bit off the edge of his cigar. “I don’t like that dress.”

“That’s all right, darling. You’re not the one wearing it.” I offered him a condescending pat on the cheek. “You’d never pull it off with your ankles.”

He ran his tongue over his upper teeth, sharp, sly eyes full of malice inspecting me. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Thierry.” He snapped his fingers. “Start driving.”

“Thierry’s here from London?” I brightened up, turning toward the driver.

Since the vehicle was too long for him to catch my gaze in the rearview mirror, Thierry raised a hand in a wave. “How do you do, Gia?”