“Perhaps being in your presence simply makes me crave alcohol,” I counter.
“There was wine at dinner,” he volleys.
“To deal with you, I need something stronger.” I smirk as I watch him try to read me and fail miserably. He might know I’m playing at something, but I can tell by the frustrated crinkle of his brow that he has no idea what.
“Then by all means, follow me.” He spins himself around and begins walking toward his study.
His hands casually dip inside the pockets of his black trousers as he walks with his broad shoulders pulled back. He’s trying to show me that he isn’t concerned with whatever I’m scheming, but he’s making it too obvious. I feel a slight thrill fill me, knowing I have him on edge. There’s something intoxicating about this feeling, and I’m smacked with the sudden urge to find other ways to chase this high with him. My thoughts are brought to an abrupt halt when he smoothly pulls a key from his pocket, slips it into the lock on the door, and pushes it open.
Waving his arm, he gestures for me to help myself inside as he holds the door open, which is unnecessary, seeing as the door is able to stay open on its own just fine. Feigning as though I’munfazed, I stroll past him into the room, my mind rapidly taking note of all the places he might be hiding the details of my curse, which, unfortunately for me, is vast.
The walls of his study are lined with a multitude of bookshelves, each stacked with an egregious amount of books. I mean, honestly, he’s basically hosting his own small library in this room. On top of that, he has a large oak desk in the corner that has at least eight different drawers for me to rummage through, and who knows how easy those will be to open. I know I’ll only have a finite amount of time to do all my searching before he wakes from the sleeping drought.
I hear the door click closed behind me and whirl around. Braxton stands before me, hands still casually in his pockets with a wide grin overtaking his face. I give him a scrutinizing look only now realizing he might be doing some kind of scheming of his own, and I just willingly locked myself in a room with him.
23
Azalea
“Sothatdrink?”Braxtonnods towards the cart he has filled with a multitude of different liquors.
I slowly realize that my experience with alcohols outside of wine is slim, making me unaware of my tolerance for them.
“Right.” My eyes scan the variety of decanters, some are filled with completely clear liquids while others have a deep amber tone. “Why don’t you make me your poison of choice?” I give him a tight smile.
“Oh, I don’t plan on drinking.”
His smile tells me everything I need to know. Even if he hasn’t fully figured out my plan, he doesn’t trust me enough to drink alone with me.
“You’re going to make me drink by myself?” I ask not having to feign my annoyance. The entirety of this plan will crumble if I can’t get him to at least take a few sips of a drink while in this room.
“You drink alone every night at dinner.”
My brows wrinkle. “You drink at dinner as well.”
He shakes his head. “I only ever drink water. Think about it, Azalea, you’ve only ever seen me at my worst once.”
I plaster a fake smile on my face. “I wouldn’t say that,” I chirp coyly.
“You’ve only ever seen me drunk once.”
“Better.”
“That’s because I don’t drink.”
“Oh come on,” I dramatically toss myself into one of the oversized armchairs in his study, before crossing one leg over the other. The skirt of the dress has a long slit up one of the sides, which causes it to fall away, leaving my bronzed legs on display. He watches me unabashedly. “You won’t have one drink with me?”
“Why is it so important for you thatIdrink.”
I curse myself internally. I’m trying too hard. Knowing I need to pull back, I feign nonchalance. “It’s not. I’ll take whatever drink you recommend.” I wave my hand at him uncaringly, trying to figure out how best to pivot my plan.
Huffing under my breath, I sit up straighter, the thin strap of my dress sliding down my shoulder in the process. Looping my thumb underneath the thin material, I push the strap back up, and when I look over, I see Braxton tracking my every move. There’s a borderline predatory edge in his eyes.
I scoot closer to the edge of the armchair as he walks up to me and holds out a glass full of an amber liquid and two cubes of ice. I already know I’m going to hate this, but I smile and accept the drink anyway. I wait for him to sit next to me, but watch as he instead walks toward the other chair that sits directly across from me. Crossing one leg over the other, he clasps his hands together and stares at me, his body language screaming that it’s my move.
I slowly pull my thumb out from underneath the strap it was still looped through, before letting my fingers trail along theborder of the sweetheart neckline of my dress. If I can’t drug him, I can at least distract him while I think of what to do. I delicately run my fingers back and forth, knowing his eyes will follow the movement and inadvertently keep him attentively staring at my chest.
“Are you trying to seduce me, Azalea?”
