"I'm nevernota gentleman," I retort. How dare she impugn my gentlemanly behavior when I'm always nothing short of gracious!
She narrows her eyes at me. "So gentlemen cut women's clothes with a switchblade nowadays?" She pauses, then adds, "My bad—children, not women." I can spot the corner of her mouth pulling up slightly. The minx thinks she's got me.
Not this time.
"What can I say?" I shrug, looking entirely innocent. "I'm a gentleman in the streets and a beast in the sheets." I wink at her, but she just rolls her eyes, the joke missing its mark.
"More like a psycho with a knife in the sheets," she says, deadpan, and I realize she does not know whatsheetsstands for.
I laugh, even more so when her nose scrunches up in confusion.
When was the last time I laughed like this?
"Don't worry," she finally speaks, a determined look on her face. "I promise to give as good as I get," she asserts confidently.
"Really? What if I like it hard?" I parry, enjoying her cluelessness about what we'reactuallydiscussing.
"I can give it to you harder." She raises her chin a notch, and I once again note that quiet pride of hers… no, it's more than that. It's dignity, and she carries it like a champ.
"I see," I reply solemnly. "I also enjoy having an audience." I throw that out there, curious to see what she'll counter it with.
"Of course," she readily agrees. "An audience is necessary to witness you lose," she once again confirms that she's talking about something else entirely.
My poker face threatens to break, laughter bubbling up inside me.
"And you will lose," she continues, and I can see she's becoming more comfortable with me. Good.
"Will I? I never lose, little tigress. Never." I half-lie because I'm strong enough to admit I've already lost to her—not to her face, of course.
"You will next time. You won't take me by surprise again." She folds her hands across her chest, the picture of indignation.
"Oh no, next time you'll know when I come."
A smile plays at her lips. "Maybe next time I'll come first."
The moment I hear her words, a groan escapes me. Am I taking this too far? It's certainly too enjoyable to end now.
"Oh, you will, little tigress. You'll definitely come first." My voice breaks as I reply, and I can no longer contain my amusement.
"Why do I get the feeling you're talking about something else?" She stands up, hands on her hips, her eyes shooting daggers at me. "You're mocking me, aren't you?"
"Of course not," I clear my throat, schooling my features. "I was talking about fighting." I lie.
"Weird," she adds thoughtfully. "I was sure we were talking about coitus. Since, you know, you seemed terribly obsessed with it."
My face drops. My mouth hangs open in shock. Not because she just called sex coitus, even though that is funny in itself, but because I've been played.
Again.
"How…" I trail off, and her smile grows wider. She struts to the table, gloating from head to toe. She picks up the book she'd had with her earlier and throws it at me.
"Very educational. You might learn a thing or two." She has the gall to wink at me, and I'm just staring at her, dumbfounded.
Looking down, I see the naked guy on the cover peering back, his smug expression quietly making fun of me.
Enzo Agosti. International art trafficker. Feared mafioso.
Ended by a little girl.
