“I’ll meet you here at two o’clock tomorrow then,” Grayson said, obviously intending on getting to work for the day, doing whatever it was he did down at the stone building.
“Okay,” I agreed, trying to sound nonchalant.
“Oh, here. You dropped this.” Grayson bent and picked up a piece of paper and began handing it to me.
I frowned at it. “I don’t think that’s—” And then I realized what it was by the color of the paper. It was the list I’d made about Grayson. The one I’d also scrawled “Kira Hawthorn” on several times in the margins, testing out my new signature. It must have fallen out of my purse. I felt heat rising in my face, and I grabbed for it. Grayson, eyeing me suspiciously, pulled the paper back. “Don’t you dare,” I breathed.
He looked down at the paper in his hand and back at me, obviously more interested now that I was making such a big deal over it. Stupid, Kira! It had just happened so quickly, and I hadn’t had time to mask my reaction.
“What do we have here?” Grayson asked.
“It’s personal,” I said. “Give it back.”
“Personal? We’re about to be married. We shouldn’t have any secrets between us,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
“Very funny. Let me have it.”
He unfolded half of it as I lunged. He sideswiped me gracefully, grinning as I let out a squeak and almost fell on the ground. He turned and walked briskly to the large living room to the right of the foyer. “I think I’ll pull up a reading chair and see what this is all about.”
“Give it back!” I yelled, sounding like a petulant child. He unfolded it the rest of the way as I ran behind him.
“The Dragon, AKA Grayson Hawthorn: Pros and Cons,” he read aloud. He looked back over his shoulder at me, raising one dark eyebrow, and then stepped behind the large, leather sectional and turned to face me. I tripped over the matching ottoman, almost falling again.
“Don’t,” I warned, trying to put all my much-deserved wrath into that one word.
He tilted his head, obviously reading my scrawled signature. “I’d really prefer it if you kept your maiden name,” he said. Ouch.
“Yes, well, of course.” My face was throbbing with heat. “Give it to me.” He didn’t.
“Pro: He’s an ass, but his actual ass is easy on the eyes.” He lowered the paper and looked at me over it. “So you do like my ass, little witch. You should have told me. I warned you not to develop feelings for me. But I suppose it’s okay to admire my ass, if you do in fact find me…appealing.” He smirked. “You’re only human after all,” he said, scratching his chin as if in thought. “Are witches human? Hmm…” He looked back to the paper.
“You…” I halted, unable to think of how to finish that sentence, flailing my arms in utter helplessness, seething with rage. He seemed to enjoy deliberately arousing my anger. I wanted to wipe the arrogant look off his stupid, handsome features.
“Con: He’s a pompous dragon,” Grayson read calmly.
“Proven fact,” I growled.
“Pro: He needs me.” Grayson’s eyes darted to mine, darkening. “Correction, I need your money.”
Well, he wouldn’t get it now! He had crossed the line. I’d never give this dragon a damned thing. I looked around the room wildly for something to wound him with, spotting a bottle of wine sitting far back on a buffet next to a door that presumably led to a cellar. I ran over to it, grabbed it, and went to throw it at him.
“No!” he yelled, a note of panic in his voice that stopped me in my tracks. “Kira.” He dropped the list and put his hands up in a pose of surrender. “That bottle of wine is irreplaceable.” He bent slowly to pick up my list and rose just as slowly, holding it out to me. “Trade,” he said, moving cautiously in my direction as if I were an untamed animal.
I looked down at the bottle in my hands. Something French. When I looked back up at Grayson, his face was white. “This one?” I asked innocently, switching it to my other hand with a little toss. A choked sound came from his throat. “This one right here? Irreplaceable?” Surely he was exaggerating. Otherwise, why would it be sitting out on a buffet in the living room? Still, it obviously meant a lot to him. He went to move toward me again.
“Stop where you are,” I commanded. He did. I raised my chin. “Apologize to me for your extreme rudeness and…” I waved the bottle of wine around, trying to come up with the words for what he’d done to me and my pride.
That same choked sound came out of Grayson’s throat, his eyes tracking the bottle. “Yes, yes, I apologize. I was just having some fun with you. I didn’t mean any harm. I swear it. Come here and give me the bottle of wine, Kira.”
I tilted my chin. “No.”
He blinked. “No?”
“I won’t come to you. You come to me.”
Something flashed in his eyes, but he carefully checked his expression as his gaze landed on the bottle in my hands again. “Meet me in the middle.”
I thought about challenging that. After all, I was the one clearly in control now, but I decided the middle was adequate. “Okay. Quick swap.”
He nodded once and I went to move toward him but stopped. Hmm. I’d enjoy seeing that look of helpless panic in his eyes and hearing that odd choking sound come from his throat one last time. Intending on passing the bottle from my left hand to my right, I swung my left arm out in a wide arc and reached forward with my right to grab it, keeping eye contact with the Dragon, a small smirk on my lips. The sound of shattering glass rang out loudly in the silent room and I froze, sucking in a breath, time seeming to slow as I looked to my left where I had forgotten stood a large stone pillar. I’d raised my arm and smashed it right into the unforgiving rock. I swallowed thickly, watching what looked like blood drip down the stone into a growing puddle on the floor.
A gasping sound came from the doorway and I whipped my head in the direction of the small noise. Walter stood there, his mouth hung open, his complexion a ghastly white. “I had just gone to get the key to the wine cellar,” he said, his voice a choked whisper. “I’m sorry, sir.”
Oh God. I looked down to the broken neck of the bottle in my hand and then slowly, very slowly up at Grayson. He was seething with what looked to be barely controlled fury. “It wasn’t your fault, Walter. You may go,” he said, his voice full of deadly calm.
There was a pause. “Yes, sir,” I heard Walter say before he quickly walked away.
I blinked, my hand letting go of the broken bottleneck as it, too, shattered on the floor. I stood glued to the spot as Grayson slowly made his way to me. I could practically feel the fiery rage emanating from him. When he got to me, he moved in close, taking his fingers and tilting my chin up to him. A muscle twitched in his jaw. I stood straighter, meeting his eyes. “That bottle of wine,” Grayson gritted out, “was my father’s pride and joy. He spent years trying to obtain it. When he finally did, he wept. He wept, Kira. Tears of joy over that bottle you just smashed out of spite.”
I shook my head, trying desperately not to flinch. “It was an accident. It was just…sitting there…” I hated the catch in my voice as my words faded away.