Page 11 of The Crowned Garza

“I’m not a ‘girl,’ I’m a woman.”

“Is that why your hymen is still intact?”

What the…? How does he even know that? “Ah, so you’re one of those misogynistic douchenuggets who think a woman isn’t a ‘woman’ unless she’s had a big, fat cock inside her, huh?”

He fetches a skillet from below and puts it on the stove.

“How many ‘girls’ have you turned into ‘women’ with your magic penis, Mr. Bow Tie?”

“None.”

“Oh, lemme guess. You don’t screw ‘virgins’ because they get all clingy with romantic notions afterward?” I say, irritated for some reason. “Like how dare she get attached after allowing you the privilege of being the first man to enter her body.”

“Careful,” he says. “You might sprain your ankles jumping to all those conclusions about me.”

Of its own volition, my gaze drifts to his inked forearms again, and I imagine them pressed on either side of a woman’s head as he drives into her over and over without tenderness or care. Something delicious unfurls in my belly. In the next breath, the woman’s face morphs tomine,and the scene changes tomesitting right there in front of him on the prepping station, my dress bunched up, and that hand with the rosary sliding up between my thighs and…Oh dear God.What the hell am I doing?

“Whatever,” I mumble through a clogged throat. “You’re probably a selfish, wham-bam kind of man anyway. Leaving women wholly unsatisfied all around.”

A quiet scoff leaves him, but he doesn’t defend himself.

“And by the way, I’m not a virgin.”

At that, he pauses to lance me with those impassive amber eyes. “What’s his name?”

Outwardly, his posture is casual, features relaxed and open. Meant to convince me it’s safe to tell him. But the dark intensity of his eyes, which borderlines on menacing, betrays it all.

There’s no name to give him, seeing as my hymen is still very much intact. But if there were one, I wouldn’t even give him the initials because this man is clearly a restrained demon.

“That’s none of your business,perv.”

Needing some distance from him all of a sudden, I slide off the stool and walk away. The closer I am to him, the weirder my brain acts, and Irefuseto mistake it for attraction. There’s no chance I’ll ever be attracted to that counterfeit, bow tie-wearing sicko of a man.

“Hurry up with my food,” I throw snootily over my shoulder before pushing through the swinging double doors.

Once I’m out in the restaurant area, my lungs expand and I gasp in a deep breath. I press my hand to my throat, exhaling slowly. My heartbeat evens out, and the funny feeling in my stomach starts to fade.

Much better.

The lights are off out here and the chairs are upturned on the tables, but the blue light from the waterfall wall behind the bar casts enough of a glow that I’m able to see and appreciate the tasteful interior decor. Oh, to be part of a team that prepares gourmet meals for a restaurant like this…

I take down one of the chairs to sit, then fish out my phone from my purse and ring up my babe. New York is several hours ahead of us, so she’s probably asleep, but she’ll pick up. Because that’s what soul mates do.

“Yes, vampire,” she answers groggily.

“I’m somewhere I shouldn’t be, with someone I shouldn’t be with.”

“Why?”

“Because I never know how to leave well enough alone?”

“Who is it?”

“It’s...” I pause for a bit. “Let’s just call him ‘X.’”

All grogginess is gone from her voice, replaced with affront when she demands, “And we aren’t doing names,why?”

“Because...this one’s tricky. I’m working on something, and I think...if it turns out I’m right, it’ll be safer that you didn’t know.”