Page 2 of Kidnapping the Duchess
“I have to confirm everything in the kitchen is running smoothly. Think you can manage making yourself presentable on your own?”
While chugging the bottle of water, I extend my middle finger in the air. My sister, used to my snarky attitude, doesn’t even blink.
“Excellent. You have less than an hour so chop-chop.” Talia glides across my room with poise and purpose, every strand of pinned blonde hair perfect, as though scared to defy her by moving even a millimeter out of place. Always the proper lady, my sis. She’s so much like our mother, which incidentally, is the exact opposite of me.
As she reaches the door, Talia nods in the direction of the long settee in my sitting area. “And get rid of your latest beard, Orgy Queen.”
Okay, so not exactly like our proper-to-a-fault mother. My face cracks on a smile, which I quickly cover by sticking my tongue out at her.
As soon as the door shuts, I climb out of bed and trudge over to the fully clothed body draped over the black velvet upholstery. Freddie—Frankie? Fonzie? Whatever. Whats-His-Nuts has one arm thrown over his eyes and his mouth open like a gaping fish. I use my bare foot and jostle the leg that’s hanging off the side.
“Wake up, Nemo. I need you out of here.” I keep poking and prodding until he’s lucid enough to stand, but he’s not moving nearly fast enough. This is the part I hate. Ushering out the man—or woman—everyone thinks I’ve slept with the following morning. “Come on, move it or lose it. Time for you to blow this popsicle stand.”
A smarmy grin spreads over his face. “I’d rather you just blow me.”
“In your dreams, playboy,” I say, shoving him toward the door. “And that’s exactly where they’ll stay—in your dreams. Remember you signed an NDA stating you’ll never speak about anything that happened in this room.”
“But nothing happened in this room.”
“And you can’t talk about that, either, so just play it cool and let your friends assume you’re a super stud. Sorry my headache—” that didn’t exist “ruined things for us.”
“Yeah, too bad. I would’ve rocked your wor—”
I cut him off by yanking the door open, ready to shove him on his way. But when I see the stoic man standing across the hall like a living statue with blazing hazel eyes, I stop myself. Turning to my sorta-date, I give him a flirty smile and run a finger down the front of his rumpled shirt. “Hit me up and we’ll do this again sometime.”
The twat is so caught up in the idea of seeing me again, he doesn’t even realize that “this” technically means he’d be sleeping on my couch wholly unsatisfied a second time. “Yeah, I definitely will. See ya, Daria.”
The sculpture wearing a crisp suit and discreet comms unit tucked into his right ear comes to life, stopping—Francis?—with a firm hand to his chest. “That’s your grace to you. Either show her the respect her title demands or you’ll be walking out of here less a row of teeth.”
After muttering an awkward apology, Frankenstein books it down the hall to where another security guard waits to escort him out of the manor. I raise an eyebrow at the surly beast in front of me and tsk. “Now was that necessary, Mr. Blackstone? I hardly think a man needs to address me formally after he’s known me…biblically.”
The muscle in his jaw tics and his nostrils flare ever so slightly. “I humbly disagree, your grace. As long as he’s on this side of your bedroom door, he will address you properly.”
I saunter closer until only a few inches separate us. If I lean forward on my toes, my breasts would brush the stiff lapels of his suit jacket, and the thin silk camisole I’m wearing would do little to disguise the hard peaks of my nipples. Which is why I hold my position. Not because it would bother me for Izak, head of my security team and personal bodyguard, to see me in such a state. But because this dance we perform has become something of an art form.
Every day, we walk a thin line between what is proper for our stations, and what is decidedly not. But I never cross that line for fear that Izak would be reassigned. It’s this daily mental and verbal tango that makes me feel alive. I can’t lose that. I won’t. So, on we dance.
“To be clear,” I say, peering up at him through my long lashes as I finger the gold pendant nestled in my cleavage, “you’re saying that a man is free to call me whatever he wants so long as it’s behind closed doors? Can you give me some examples of other things that a man is free to do with me in private, Mr. Blackstone?”
Every muscle in his big body goes rigid as he rasps, “It’s not my place to presume what your grace prefers in the privacy of her bedroom.”
My tongue snakes out to wet my lips. Golden-green eyes follow the movement, and his Adam’s apple bobs with a hard swallow. “Oh, come now, bodyguard, humor me. Pretend it is your place and take a guess at what I prefer. I double-dog dare you.”
“As tempting as your challenge is, Duchess, I never make guesses about anything significant. And when it comes to a woman in my bed, her pleasure is of the utmost importance. I make it my mission to know what she likes, what she wants. What she needs.”
The inside of my mouth has gone dry, and it’s my turn to swallow hard. “How incredibly noble of you.”
“Not noble,” he says, his gaze dipping to my breasts briefly before locking onto my eyes once more. “It’s what a real man does, one who’s worthy. Because when it comes to activities of a biblical nature, Duchess, if he’s not indulging every wicked fantasy in your pretty head…” In a rare break of character, Izak dips his head to whisper in my ear, starting a fire low in my belly as his warm breath skates over my skin. “He doesn’t deserve to touch a single fucking inch of your naked body.”
My breath catches, and my panties are suddenly damp beneath my thin pajama shorts, but my pride and this game won’t allow the truth of how he affects me to show. Gathering what’s left of my unfrazzled nerves, I say boldly, “Then it’s a good thing your job is to guard my body against potential threats, not potential lovers.”
Ooh, that struck a nerve if the jaw tic is any indication. Good, serves him right for getting me all worked up like he did. With the time crunch I’m already on, I won’t have time to take care of business before I’m required in the study. Just perfect. Sexual frustration tends to make me extremely cranky. Hence my extensive toy collection. Damn Izak and his bloody sexy…everything. Ugh!
Squaring my shoulders, I slip a devil-may-care grin onto my face. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Mr. Blackstone, I have another potential lover to get ready for.”
Then, before I cave and spill every fantasy in my filthy virgin mind to my bodyguard, I stride into my room and slam the door on my temptation.
