Page 51 of Dearest Beast
“Why, Miss Adler, is that a note of jealousy I detect in your voice?” he couldn’t help but ask, as, for the first time that night, the power of the situation shifted back to him. He wagged a finger at her. “Just because someone is younger and more successful at certain endeavors doesn’t mean you don’t have your own value too.”
The woman’s cheeks blushed a delightful shade of pink. “Why you—”
“What?” He arched a brow. “What am I, Miss Adler?” he prodded.
“You’re a—a—a bully,” she snapped.
“Am I?” he asked, cocking his head a little. “Why?”
“Because you’re—” She evidently realized the trap into which she had just stumbled upon.
Yes, it was truly thrilling to spar with her.
“I’m what?” He took a step toward her, even as she backed completely into a wall. “Tormenting someone who is weaker than I am? Is that what I’m doing?” he whispered.
“No,” she said quickly.
He pressed a hand against the wall just over her head, steadying himself as he leaned over her. “No, what?”
“No, you’re neither superior to me, nor do your words and actions bother me in the slightest,” she told him, raising her chin. Not yielding.
Once again, he had the strange urge to plunder that smart mouth of hers. Compel it to surrender.
Ridiculous notion.
Completely unlike him.
A sign he needed to go to sleep.
Leone Teres. Leone Teres.
Elegant, mannered, ambitious Leone Teres. With a background and traditions like his. And the subtlety to manage them in mixed company. The woman he should desire—he would desire, when he finally received a proper night’s sleep.
Forcing himself back into the conversation, he shrugged as calmly as he could. “You could’ve fooled me.”
“Probably because you’re not particularly intelligent,” she had the nerve to retort.
After he’d shown incredible restraint as well.
Just went to show that perhaps he was not the one underestimating the other.
Not that such upset him. It wasn’t as if her good opinion had any value to him.
“I suppose not,” he said, his voice now properly cool and even. “Certainly not compared to you.”
This time, she, not he, drew closer. So close that her skirts brushed the edge of his trousers.
Narrowing her eyes, the woman searched his face once more. His breath caught in his throat.
“You are not.” She folded her arms across her chest.
His entire body tightened with desire, an image of himself lifting her skirts and finding another way to compel her to admit her mistakes flashing in his mind.
Which was… a sign he needed to leave.
Now.
Stepping backward, he lifted both palms to her. “I’m not arguing,” he assured her as he strolled toward the exit. “You’re the wise one and most certainly have the accurate measure of me,” he couldn’t help but add as he reached the staircase.
