She’s a smart girl. She’ll figure it out. I turn and sigh as I murmur over my shoulder, “I’ll see you again, I’m sure, Miss Clark. Have a safe flight home.”

As I head back to my room I don’t look back. Every single fiber within me that longs for that woman wants me to turn back and look at her, satisfy her, and call bullshit on my statement, but I can’t. My brain wins. And fortunately I don’t.

I hate how we leave off like this—upset, unfulfilled, and partially undesired. Her smart remarks and pouty faces made me want to fuck her against the nearest wall inside her room and demand that she accept my apology.

And the truth is she would because she loves my cock. She loved the experience we shared together last night, how I rocked her body from head to toe, dominating what she claimed couldn’t be owned?

Pshh. Like I said, I proved that theory to be untrue.

Why else is she getting so crazy on me now about a mistake? I can’t help that Colette’s name was on my mind or even on the tip of my tongue. She always is, and most times it’s not in the best or positive of ways.

I can tell you one thing.

Pussy is a powerful thing, but a man’s dick can hold just as much power. It can change a woman overnight, make her feel and say shit that she never thought she’d feel or say.

There are consequences when a dragon slays a young kitty with all of its’ wrath and pent-up flames. In the end, who comes out on top?

The poor kitty can’t stand a chance. Why do you think all of the fairytales warn you of the danger of the dragon? They warn you because they are strong, wild, dominant, voracious, and intimidating.

They have the power to corrupt or destroy you if you allow them.

Perhaps Angelina and her kitty didn’t bring a shield and sword to this battle. Perhaps her pink kitty thought she could tame my ruthless, malicious dragon.

Well, either way, she thought wrong and I feel terrible for putting a woman like her through it, but I can’t take it back now. There is a lot on the line—too much at risk.

I can’t bring myself down.

Not when my life has finally been deemed successful.

TWELVE

Angelina

I watch Griffin walk away without looking back even once and I feel so fucking stupid. So idiotic.

What was I thinking?! Sleeping with Griffin Boyd out of everyone I could have shared my body with—like, I don’t know, someone single!

When he’s in his room, I rush back into mine, slamming the door behind me and marching for my things. I pack it all up except the outfit I’m wearing today. When I’m dressed and all set to go, I bustle out of my room.

I need to get the hell out of here. I don’t care where I go, I just can’t be here. I’ll sit at the airport and wait if I have to. I can work to pass time.

Three hours wait, no big deal, right? It doesn’t matter. Anything beats being under the same roof as that asshole.

As I hit the down button for the elevator, I hear the sound of a door shutting to the right of me and see Griffin walking down the hall with his suitcase on its wheels.

I shake my head, focusing on the silver doors in front of me again.

“Oh, God. Here we go,” I mutter beneath my breath.

His throat clears quietly as he meets at my side and waits for the elevator as well.

When the doors finally draw open I can’t help but feel relief… that is until I remember he has to ride down with me too.

I step to the far right corner after pushing the button for the lobby and Griffin goes into the opposite corner of me, pulling out his cellphone and scrolling through it.

The floors seem to go by so slowly, each number dragging by as it decreases. I sigh, and when I feel Griffin’s eyes on me, I purposely ignore the weight of them.

Exasperated, he asks, “How long are we going to do this, Angel?”

“Don’t call me that,” I mutter. So much for ignoring him.

“But I like it.” He steps ahead, getting closer to me. “It fits you.”

My head lifts and a subtle smirk is on his lips. I want to slap it right off. “Dick,” I mutter under my breath.

“What’s that?”

“You are a dick, Griffin. That’s what.”

“Have we resorted to name calling now?”

I roll my eyes, arms folding.

“If so, then I will continue to call you my Angel.”

“Yeah, have fun with that.”

Finally, the elevator dings and I gather the handles of my bags when the doors draw open, marching through the lobby in six-inch heels. A heavy sigh of irritation sounds behind me, but I don’t look back.

Instead, I make a line to the front desk and turn in my key. After checking out and thanking the clerk, I turn around, bumping right into a broad chest.

Without looking up, I know who it is by his piney scent, the sweetness on his skin. I hate that I’m so familiar with it.

I look up, and Griffin is looking down at me, his eyes piercing mine, hands on the tops of my arms. He holds me steady, but I shrug out of his grip almost immediately.

I try to walk around him, moving left and then right, but each time he steps in my way, playing a silly game that I really don’t have time for.

“Griffin, please,” I mutter. “I need to get to the airport.”

“You have plenty of time. Just hear me out, Angelina.” His eyes are stern, mouth fixing in a way that makes me want to kiss it. Those damn lips. “I didn’t mean what I said up there—”

“Yes you did.” I cut him off. “You did. And you are right. We do have business to take care of so let’s focus on that.”

One of his brows peaks. “You’re not upset?”

“Of course not.” I force a smile, tucking my hair behind my ear and dropping my gaze. Taking a step aside, I sigh and look towards the exit glass doors. “Listen, Griff, what happened last night was just a spur of the moment thing. It happened, we got it out of our systems, and now we can focus on our work again. Okay? Isn’t that what you want?”

He blinks a few times before responding. He isn’t pleased with that. Oh, well. Who cares?

“Okay,” he says, clearly disappointed.

I cap his shoulder and walk around him. Stepping through the glass turnstile door, I walk towards the curb and hail down a cab. One finally stops after I’ve waved my arm like a madwoman, basically stepping into the street just to catch its attention.

I grip the door handle and toss my bags inside, but just as I start to slide in, a hand grabs my arm.

With a quick frown smothering my face, I spin around, and when my eyes meet a familiar sparkly brown, I sigh.

“Griffin, what?” I ask. God, why can’t he just let this go?

With his hands at my waist, his full lips parted, and eyes locking on mine, I realize exactly what is about to happen.

He can’t let it go. He won’t let me go like this, so frustrated and disappointed.

One of his hands pulls from my waist to cup one of my cheeks. His touch is smooth and callous-free. It’s gentle and it pulls at my heartstrings.

“We can’t leave off like this, Angelina. I can’t. I offended you, and I’m sorry.” Told you. His lips twist. “Colette… well, I can’t lie to you and say she doesn’t cross my mind from time to time because she does.”

My heart sinks when he says her name again. I tear my gaze away. “I know.”

“Hey! Are we leaving or what!?” A thick accent sounds behind me and I glance back at the driver.

“Yeah! Just give me a second!”

My eyes return to Griffin’s. His are soft, worry-free. Shouldn’t mine be the same?

“She is my wife, Angel. But I promise you right now that I will never call her name while I’m with you again.”

I swallow hard and my face softens up. He spots the transition in my attitude because his face lightens up, brown eyes sparking.