Page 36 of The Brat: Prequel

“I’ll tell you anyway. You’re the reason I’m here.”

“So, you lied about knowing me?”

He dips his chin. “Unkind of me, I know.”

“Why would you care enough to lie?” I ask, confused.

“To see if you’d admit to your connection to Maxim Lyanov.” When I tense up, he clucks his tongue. “Now, now. No reason to fear. I have a proposition for you.”

“I won’t sleep with you,” I snap.

His lips curve. “Shame. I could show you a great time even if you are legal.”

Legal?

It takes a second for me to figure out what he means and when the realization strikes, I gape at him in horror. He just laughs again. That carefree laugh of a rich man who knows he’s un-fucking-touchable.

Maxim’s ‘hacksaw first, ask questions later’ policy is beginning to make sense to me.

“I’d like to stop dancing with you, please.”

“So, you can be polite when you choose to be.”

“I usually refrain. Politeness is a social contract I’ll never sign.”

He hums. “What do you know of the Veronians, Victoria?”

He knows me by name.

What’s happening here?

“I-I’ve never heard of them. Is it a private equity fund or…?”

“Close. But no. We’re always looking for people who have potential, Victoria.”

“Is it a business?”

“Almost.”

I barely refrain from snorting. “If Ciaran’s a part of whatever these Veronians are, I highly doubt it’s as prestigious as you’re making out.”

The older man tuts. “Ciaran’s always been a disappointment. I should have divorced his mother before she trapped me with a useless son.”

“He was claiming I should be nice to him because he knows powerful people.”

“Ah, youthful folly. Some women should never be pinned down. Nobody wants a docile lioness in their bed.”

So, docile’s no good for a wife... but… Did he just call me a whore?!

I’m getting sick and tired of being called that, dammit to hell.

“What are you talking about, Mr. Kirkland?” I snipe. “What do you want from me?”

“A man like Lyanov has few weaknesses. Yet I hold one in my arms—” When I attempt to break free, his hand tightens around my wrist. “Now, now, we haven’t finished talking yet.”

“I think you’ll find ‘we’ have,” Star drawls, popping up from out of nowhere.

I shoot her a grateful look as she presses a spot on Kirkland’s shoulder that has him yelping. Loudly enough for the couples around us to overhear.