I raise my chin.
Rome Pierce’s blue eyes alone are an intimidation factor, but I’ve never been one to back down from a scuffle. That’s what having four older brothers will do for you.
Even as he reaches forward to wrap his large fingers around my chin, I remain steady on two sturdy feet.
“You know,” he drawls, dropping his gaze to my mouth. “Vanstone’s Princess shouldn’t use ugly words like that.”
I grind my teeth back and forth.
He clearly knows that label pisses me off. Rome Pierce, on top of his arrogance and haughtiness, is also observant.
Good to know.
When I say nothing, he chuckles darkly.
“Especiallyfuck,” he says smoothly.
I bounce my eyes back and forth between his, my heart beating faster and faster with every passing second.
“That word alone may give a guy the wrong idea,” he says, the smirk deepening on his annoyingly chiseled face.
My lips part.
His insinuation shocks me, but it’s fleeting.
I take a quick step back and place my hands on his shoulders. I ignore the hard muscles beneath my grip and bend my knee.
It collides with his muscular stomach. He buckles at the waist, wheezing.
I should’ve aimed lower.
“I wouldn’t fuck you if my life depended on it.” I grip the door handle. “Now go back to where you came from. There is no reason for you to be in Las Vegas.”
With a sick grin, he looks up at me, still crouched forward with his arm wrapped around his waist. “You sure about that, Tess?”
I swing the door open.
Of course I’m sure.
Pierce Racing likely got word that my father is stepping down, and that’s why Rome jumped on a plane to Las Vegas. He’s here to rattle his biggest rival. To apply pressure where it hurts most.
Unfortunately for him, Vanstone’s Princess doesn’t crack.
“We are not telling Dad.”
All four of my brothers stare at me—Van from across his desk, Beck sitting on the edge of it, and both Graham and Noah in the chairs placed at the foot of the maple wood with their long legs stretched out in front of them.
I pace the office.
The office my father graciously handed over to Van.
“I agree,” Beck says.
Graham rolls his eyes. “You only agree because you don’t want Dad finding out you were three sheets to the wind and about to end up in handcuffs.”
“I wasn’tthatdrunk,” Beck argues. “And even if I wasn’t drinking, I still would’ve punched him.”
“I think Dad should know,” Noah interjects. “Even if he is somewhat removed from the business, he should know.”
