“Go on,” I press.
“There’s a rumor circling.”
Cameras click again, but I’m too impatient to care.
“What rumor?” I ask.
Jericho turns his face, his hand going up to scratch the side of his cheek to shield his mouth. “That you moved to Vanstone to score the main prize.”
“Isn’t that what we all want?”
Jericho smiles deviously. “Not that prize…” He glances behind me. “That one.”
I follow his line of sight over my shoulder.
My entire fucking body runs hot.
I clench my jaw tight, and I can’t decide if I’m fueled with annoyance from Jericho’s insinuation that I’m only with Vanstone because of a certain female that’s a pain in my ass, orif I’m annoyed because she’s turned every single head along this carpet by wearing a simple dress and flashy heels.
The slit along her leg is like a siren calling, and the closer she gets to me, the harder it is to breathe.
From annoyance, though.
Not from attraction.
So what if her dark hair is pulled away from her face into one of those sleek buns, highlighting her cheekbones? And her exposed throat with a delicate necklace wrapped around the bare curve of her neck doesn’t put dirty thoughts in my head at all.
Fuck, I hate that she’s so attractive.
Instead of greeting her like a gentleman, I force out an insult. “Nice of you to show up.”
A hard line digs in between her eyebrows. The shimmery shit on her eyelids catches a glare from the flash of a camera, showcasing the vexation I’ve purposefully put there.
I put my arm out for her to take, like we planned the evening prior.
She takes it while placing a fake smile on her glossy lips. “Do you ever have anything nice to say?”
“I save my compliments for those who deserve them.”
She huffs quietly. “Silly me to think your shit attitude was only reserved for normal business hours.”
I turn my face, my mouth pointing directly at her ear with those stupid gold hoops. “I actually reserve it just for you, Princess.”
Her bony elbow digs into my side, and I grunt, removing my arm.
“Stop whispering in my ear. People will get the wrong idea.”
I snicker. “It’s too late for that.”
Her brown eyes catch mine questionably, and as if he knows what we’re talking about, Jericho intrudes on our hushed conversation.
“Vanstone’s Princess.”
He bows like a nobleman in front of her, and it’s hard not to laugh.
Tessa shoots him the same look she gives me every single morning. “Very funny, Jericho.”
He stands up straight, his 6’3” frame enveloping her. “Rome thought so.”
