Page 4 of Handle Me

“I guess you’re a better person than I am.”

I took a deep breath, choosing to ignore how close he remained to me. “I’ve had more practice.”

“While I’ve been wasting my life driving cars?” he guessed. A single crease appeared on his forehead. Did he know I could see past his macho act to the angry man who’d found out his whole life was a lie?

I couldn’t blame him for being upset, but I absolutely could blame him for how he handled his feelings. But calling Anders out on his anger wouldn’t get me far, and it definitely wouldn’t get me any cooperation.

“Let’s try this again,” he muttered, gazing down at me with eyes the color of a stormy sea. “Why are you here?”

I locked my eyes with his, so he couldn’t accuse me of lying, because I meant every word I was about to say. “I came to help you.”

“Why?” he demanded.

I forgot he was standing naked in front of me. I forgot our bodies were nearly touching. I forgot that moving any closer would place me in his arms. It didn’t matter that my hormones were doing somersaults or that every instinct warned me to get away from Anders before he blew up his life. It didn’t matter because, deep down, I knew exactly why I was here.

“Because I know,” I murmured.

His head tilted, and a strand of light hair fell across his forehead. “What do you know, boss?”

“I know what it’s like to be the spare.” My lip curled around the word, betraying how much I hated it. “I know what it’s like to always be in the shadows. I know what it’s like to be the one with all the same expectations and none of the respect.”

“Is that so?” he said humorlessly. “Well, it’s new to me.”

“My sister wasn’t always the Queen,” I reminded him. “My whole life changed when she fell in love with your brother. Not because of anything I did, but because of everything I wasn’t. Believe me, I understand you better than you think.”

He paused as if digesting my answer. After a moment, he stepped away from me and walked toward the showers without a word. But before he turned it on, he looked back. “I’m not jealous.”

“Neither am I.” I frowned at his interpretation of my words. That wasn’t what I was saying at all. I didn’t envy my sister Clara her title, or her crazy life. I just missed having a normal life that belonged to me. I was about to tell him that when he found the right button to press.

“Look, boss, if you want a tiara, I’ll buy you one, but you can’t fix yourself by fixing me.”

Since the moment I’d met him, I’d kept my annoyance on a low simmer. Now it heated to a full boil. Words crowded on my tongue, each sharp response vying to be the first dart I threw in his direction. But before I could, he flipped on the faucet. It sprayed from the shower head and filled the empty space around us with the sound of rushing water. Anders stepped under it and tipped his head to wash his hair. Water streamed in rivulets down his golden skin, racing toward his groin.

He straightened from his shampoo and moved to wash the rest of himself. Anders closed a hand around his shaft and began to wash himself suggestively. I tore my eyes away from his poorly disguised attempt to provoke me.

“There’s another option,” he called over the water.

“And that is?” I refused to look at him. I wouldn’t encourage his antics.

“You could join me,” he offered, and I whipped around to stare at him. He couldn’t be serious. But the only thing he wore was a smug grin laced with a sort of grim determination. “You know what you need, right?”

“This should be good,” I muttered. First, he flirted with me, and now he would solve my problems? Anders wasn’t just hot. He was a hot mess.

“A good fuck.” He stroked himself for emphasis.

I blinked, uncertain what was more shocking: the lewd way he continued to touch himself or the fact that he’d actually said that.

“I could shag all that well-bred, family-duty bullshit out of you. What do you say, boss?”

I swallowed back the white-hot rage I felt and arranged my face into a mask of disinterested contempt. Then I looked directly at the hand suggestively stroking his dick and grimaced. “No, thanks. I’ve got better things to do.”

I didn’t wait for him to respond. I knew it would hurt more, so I turned and walked out of the shower room. Anders wanted to play games. He thought he could screw with me until I finally gave up and left him alone. But he didn’t know me. I didn’t give up that easily, especially when it came to putting a man like him into his rightful place: under my thumb.

I went straight to his locker. He’d been so busy putting on a show that he’d never considered he’d left himself open for attack. I found his keys in his pocket along with his wallet. He had made his move. Now I would make mine.

Anders didn’t want to cooperate? I didn’t need him to participate.

I pushed through the locker room doors and headed straight for the exit.