Winston turns, his eyes narrowing as he takes in my appearance. He prowls my way, deadly intent gleaming in his dark blue eyes. I have to crane my neck up to look at him when he stops so close our chests nearly touch.
“You smell good,” he rumbles, his hand coming up to tug at a strand of my hair.
“So do you.”
His gaze softens as he roams it down to my lips. “That red is dangerous.”
“Don’t worry. I’m about to wash it off since our thing is obviously canceled.”
He grips my jaw, stopping me from moving away. His lips descend on mine and he kisses them in a chaste way that has me yearning for more.
“It’s not canceled. We’re meeting my friend Nate and brother Perry soon. Did you eat?”
“Francis fed me.”
“I left the shoes on the entryway table. Put them on while I change. We’ll leave in five minutes.”
He stalks away, climbing the stairs like a beast trying to get into heaven. I stare a little too long at his ass before I rush over to the table to swap out my shoes. As soon as I open the shoebox, I cringe.
I love Aquazzura as much as the next girl but buying me a twelve-hundred-dollar pair of spiked heels is overboard. Not to mention, there’s no way I can walk in these shoes. I’m dazzled by the pretty crystal embellishments, though, so I’ll at least try them on. I kick off my flats and then slide on one shoe. It barely hugs my foot, and the heel is tall enough to be lethal. I step into the other shoe, holding onto the entryway table to keep from falling.
And yet . . . I still wobble.
I take a cautious step forward, clutching the table, only to nearly roll my ankle. Such a shame because they really are pretty and match my dress. I’m about to kick them off when two strong hands grip my waist.
“They’re perfect,” Winston rumbles, his hot breath tickling my hair. “You’re almost as tall as me now.”
I suppress a shiver at his touch. “Sorry to break the bad news, but I can’t walk in them.”
He chuckles, dark and menacing. “Which is exactly why I bought them.”
“What?” I hiss, craning my neck to see his face. “Why would you do that?”
“I thought you wanted to earn money. You know how hard my dick gets when you’re embarrassed.”
Anger surges through me, hot and violent. “Seriously?”
“Deadly.”
“This won’t just embarrass me,” I snap. “It’ll embarrass you too. How will people take it seriously that I’m your assistant if I can’t even walk in heels?”
“You’ll just have to stay close.” He releases my hips to offer his elbow. “Why don’t we take a few practice steps?”
“Unbelievable. This is going to cost you, Constantine. Big time.”
“How about I’ll pay you a hundred bucks any time you almost fall?”
“Two,” I snarl. “And if I do fall, that’s a thousand coming out of your pocket.”
“I can afford it.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you’re angry with me, but you secretly like it. You like knowing that each time you wobble tonight and your pretty cheeks turn pink, my dick will be hard as stone.”
My skin burns, and it infuriates me that he’s right. He’s creating a monster. I don’t like the person I’m learning is hiding inside me. She’s a fucking freak like him.
“Come, darling, let’s take these shoes for a test run.” He grins at me in his ruthless psychopath way.
I latch onto his elbow, cursing him as I take a shaky step. I’m forced to hold onto him for dear life. It reminds me of the first time Dad took me ice skating. I’d only been able to stay upright if he were holding onto me. This is mortifying.
A whole night of this?
No way.
“We bring my flats as backup,” I throw out. “Take it or leave it.”
“Leave it. You can bring your flats as backup, but if you put them on, you’ll forfeit all the shoe humiliation money you’ve earned.” I wobble, clinging to him, and he laughs. “Two hundred dollars right there that you’d lose out on.”
Considering I quaver just about every step, this night is going to be ridiculously expensive for him. Stupid rich man with too much money. Most guys buy a yacht or a fucking island. My guy buys dumb shoes to watch me walk around like a baby deer on ice.
My guy?
New fury courses through me. He’s my boss. Nothing more. Sure, he gave me an orgasm. Sure, he makes my blood heat when he touches me. Sure, I enjoyed the kiss. But at the end of the day, he’s an asshole.
I need to remember it, too.
“Let’s go,” I grumble. “Time to make a damn fool out of myself.”
“I’m positively thrilled about it.”
The only response he gets is my middle finger in his face.