Treachery Prequel

More importantly, why was I breathing deeper just to drag in the scent of her perfume? Something floral, not too sweet and not too heavy. Just right, the scent of a woman who wasn’t trying to attract attention, but still liked to take care of herself.

Our eyes met again as my knee nudged her legs to part, a sneer curling my lip to see her eyes widen and her mouth drop open. She was feeling the same thing as me.

I would use that to my advantage.

“We could work something out,” I crooned, rubbing the tip of my nose up her jawline so I could whisper against her ear.

A sharp gasp hissed over her lips, her hand coming up as if to slap me. I snatched her wrist before she could make contact, but her other hand flew up faster than I could react, her fingers latching on my ear to tug at it so hard pain shot down my neck.

“Son of a-“

I jumped back to break her hold, my eyes seeking hers as a grin curled the ends of her lips.

“Has anybody ever told you to keep your hands to yourself?”

“Actually,” I answered, rubbing at my ear, thankful it was still attached, “no. Most women I know are perfectly happy to have my hands all over them.”

“I’m not most women.”

I could tell, but I wouldn’t give Luca the satisfaction of agreeing with her openly.

The color slowly ebbed from her skin, her blue eyes glimmering with anger still.

“You can shove your deal up your ass. I’ll do the project on my own somehow.”

Pushing away from the wall, she stormed toward the door, pulled it open and was halfway through when I called out, “I’m sure I’ll be hearing from you soon, Luna.”

There was no way in hell she could do the project by herself.

“It’s Luca and don’t hold your breath. Actually, do hold your breath because then you’ll die and I can be assigned a new advisor.”

She didn’t have to tell me what I already knew.

Her full name was Luca Marie Bailey. She was born on August 17th. Her favorite color was blue, and she didn’t like sprinkles on her ice cream. She preferred landscape photos to selfies. She wasn’t athletic but loved the outdoors, and she had a cat named Gilbert that still lived with her parents back home in Georgia.

You could learn a lot about a person by scouring their social media and I had spent a fair amount of hours studying everything there was to know about her.

The door slammed shut behind her, a chorus of laughter breaking out in the other room.

It seemed the fucking peanut gallery enjoyed watching a woman turn me down for what had to be the first time in my life.

Oddly, I enjoyed it too.