CHAPTER 8
Fabio
I was mentally prepared for a slap. It’d have been worth it. The look on her face was priceless, and that deep blush returned to drive me nuts.
To my surprise, she said nothing. Her lips were twisting and puckering and pursing, but she was silent as she snatched the bag and the flowers. The only thing that was slapped was the door as she slammed it in my face. I took it she wanted me to wait outside as she changed into the new bra.
A snicker slipped out of me. That woman had the ability to make me laugh, make me horny and make me angry. A combination I’d never thought could exist in a woman such as frowny, judgey Lady Brighton.
A combination I should be aware of. Afraid of.
We were cut from different cloth. She was a highbrow, running a sophisticated business, going to events where she’d receive an award for her work. I was a dropout who got his girl pregnant at seventeen, ruined his chances at a proper education and a better life and had nothing to offer the world but his body.
Our worlds were never meant to collide if it weren’t for a couple of thongs.
“What the fuck am I doing here, going to an award ceremony with a woman that didn’t even want me looking at her?” I mumbled, giving myself a mental slap on the cock. “So much for a breathe—”
The door squeaked open slowly, and the sound of her heels echoed as if in slow motion. Like an asshole, my eyes zoned in on her tits. Fuck. They were perfect, now matching her gorgeous ass. I caught myself licking my lips, so I dragged my gaze up.
To her naked eyes. And mamma mia, what incredible eyes. The glasses were sexy on her, but now that she took them off, that I could see her whole face, and those bluer than a cloudless heaven, ringed by a thicket of black lashes eyes…
Thatwas when I couldn’t take my stare off her.
“I really don’t like it when you stare. You have no idea how hard this whole situation is for me, and you’re making me more nervous than I already am.”
She was making me nervous, too, and I was never nervous. I shook my head as if I was shaking myself out of a trance. Then I cleared my throat. “I’m the best bra shopper or what?”
She rolled her—knee-buckling—eyes. “Ugh. Shut up.”
“Admit it, Lady Brighton.”
She got her keys out to lock the door. “Lady Brighton?”
I shrugged in a tease.
She started away. “Well, it’s an improvement frombabe.”
When I didn’t follow her, she glanced at me, her hair swinging across her back. “Are you coming?”
“I’m not taking one step until you say it.”
“Say what?”
“That I’m good at this, and you love the bra. Then you thank me for it.”
She let out a sigh that sounded more like a snarl. “Fine. Thank you so much for ogling my breasts, sizing them up with such accuracy that allowed you to buy me, a total stranger, this beautiful, indecent gift. You’re so good at this you should consider a job in women’s fashion rather than…”
I arched a brow. “Prostitution?”
She looked away toward the elevator. “Look, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude. Your life choices are none of my business. I have no clue why I had to be so—”
“Honest?” Even though it was crude, and I didn’t know why it bugged me when it came from her—I’d developed a thick skin a very long time ago—she didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.
She shook her head. “Mean. Whatever you’re doing this for, you must have your reasons. Besides, it’s not like you’re hurting anybody. In the end, you’re using your body to make others happy. There are far worse things to do in life.”
I had a feeling she wasn’t full of shit and meant every word; she wasn’t just trying to apologize with some made up nonsense. Maybe I got her all wrong. Gabriella wasn’t judgey. She was just…real. Allergic to fake shit. Brutally honest all the time.
That must have been exhausting for her, getting her in trouble. Nobody liked honest twenty-four seven. For me, though, I found it strangely intriguing.
