Page 53 of The Bronze Garza

“Why isn’t she your girlfriend?”

“Because my life isn’t designed for girlfriends.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Itmeansthat sometimes I have to do jobs that take me away for months at a time, where I have to pretend to be a sleaze-bag who fucks imprisoned girls. Or jobs of babysitting little rich princesses while their daddies are on business trips,” he bites out. “Not exactly the kind of happily ever after any sane woman would want.”

I glower at him. “Hey, buddy, I don’t want to be here anymore than you want me here.Youtook this job. So don’t try to blame me for beingsucha burden on your life.”

“What burden?” He looks at me as if I’ve lost my marbles. “Newsflash, little Miss Self-Absorbed, I run a multi-million-dollar company and manage a staff of over a hundred. You’reonejob of many.” He straightens up off the bed. “You asked me a question and I answered; there’s no fucking room in my life for a girlfriend.”

He glares at me and I glare right back, and this entire argument just feels so stupid. It’s as if we’re arguing about somethingotherthan what we’re arguing about.

Or maybe I’m just being pissy because I’ve realized that I want him and know I’ll never have him.

We stare at each other for a long time, until our glare melts into something else. The rhythm of my heartbeat shifts pace, my breaths shorten.

His liquid gaze falls to my bosom, to its heavy rise and fall from my quickening breaths. He glances away and the act angers me. Is it really so damn repulsive to find me attractive?

My eyes burn. Suddenly I feel like I’m in the penthouse in Russia again, looking at him with longing and silently begging him to pick me.

In defeat, I drop my gaze to the food on my lap. “My stepbrother is getting some time off from work, which means he’ll be at the house. So I’ll be out of your hair by tomorrow. No more of me cramping your style and whatnot.”

“Your father—”

“Doesn’t control me,” I snip. “I go along with all of this nonsense forhisbenefit. But if Patrick’s going to be at the house I don’t need to be here anymore. I’m just as safe with him.”

At that, he shrugs as if to say he doesn’t care either way and starts out of the room. “At least finish eating so you don’t fucking die on my watch.”

“Asshole,” I mutter under my breath. But I finish eating the food. Not because he told me to, but because it tastes damn good.

Of coursethe bastard would also be a good cook.

~

“I’m in themood for an online shopping spree, but I can’t think of anything that I want. What do you want, Jo? Let me spoil you today before I leave.”

Jo eyes me from where she’s sheering some shrubs. “Like my sugar momma?”

I grin at her from the porch. “If you’ll have me.”

She snorts. “Some more paperbacks. Them tablet things ain’t good on my eyes.”

“Alrighty.” I launch the browser on my laptop. “Loading up Book Depository.”

It’s a new day and I’ve already cranked out over five thousand words on my “book.” But I’ve hit a wall with the plot, so I’m taking a break until my brain feels like playing nice again.

I add every book from the bestselling thrillers list to the cart, along with some mystery and a handful of literary fiction.

“Anything else?” I ask. “I’m pouringallthe sugar today, lady.”

“Nah, I’m good,” she replies over theclip-clip-clipof the shears. “Already got a sugar daddy who takes real good care of me. God bless him.”

“Who, Mr. Grumpy? Pfft. I can domuchbetter for you than he ever can.”

She laughs from the gut. “I’m sure you can. If I think of somethin’ I’ll let ya know, yeah?”

“Playing hard to get, I see,” I say teasingly. I stand and set my laptop aside. “I’m gonna go grab my credit card. You better think fast, though, because I’m leaving this evening and you may never see me again.”