I stared at her for a moment longer before finally asking, “With who?”
Her lips twitched. “With you.”
What? “With me.”
“Yes. But a real one, not just—and I can’t believe I’m saying this—not just sex.”
I barely heard a word she’d said, instead repeating, “With me,” again because the very idea was ludicrous. A relationship with me? Is she crazy?
“Yes. With you. As I’ve said.”
“But . . . Why?”
“What do you mean why?” She frowned, though amusement sparked behind her blue eyes. “Have you met you?”
I could do nothing but stare at her and blink, unable to absorb the meaning of her words. Was this a joke?
Fortunately or unfortunately, Diane seemed to have no problem spelling things out. “You’re smart, clever. You make me laugh. You’re good a flirting—extremely good at flirting. And you’re capable, competent, cool under pressure. That’s big for me. That’s number one. I swear, there’s more billionaires on this planet than capable men. You are great in bed and have an appetite that matches mine, both in the bedroom and in the kitchen. And I’m talking about good food, none of that low-fat garbage.” She gestured to my empty plate on the coffee table before settling her hands on her hips. “Also, look in a mirror.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am. Plus, you seem to like me, even though most folks think I’m arrogant and bossy. Which, they’re right about. I am. And I’m learning how to embrace it. This is the year of me embracing who I am and what I want.”
“Diane—”
“Jason.”
I couldn’t keep up so I stated the obvious, “I am not for you.”
“Oh really? Why? Am I too old for you?”
“What? No!”
“Then why? Is it because I’m bitchy?”
“No,” I spoke between clenched teeth and without thinking too much about my words. “I don’t consider confident women to be bitchy. I happen to enjoy confidence.”
“I thought you might.” She gave me a smile that looked both knowing and contemplative. “Then what is it? Am I too short? Too thin? Too fat?”
“You’re perfect and you know it.”
She clapped her hands together, tucked them under her chin, and gave a happy squeal as stars blossomed behind her eyes. “You think I’m perfect? Then what’s the problem?”
“Diane, I’m—” I dug my fingers into my hair. Where do I start? Garbage. Worthless. So far beneath her. I meant what I’d said earlier; I was the dirt under her nails. Unworthy.
“What? A Scorpio? Please don’t be a Scorpio. My astrological sign does not mesh well with Scorpios.”
Rather than laugh, I blurted, “A criminal, Diane. I am a criminal.”
“So?”
“That’s not going to be a problem for you?”
She seemed to consider the question for two seconds before responding, “I don’t think so, as long as you’re not hurting anybody.”
“Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds? That’s what criminals do. We hurt people.”
“Well. Okay. Fine.” She threw her hands in the air. “You’re a criminal. You hurt people. So noted.”
“So noted?”
“Yes. So noted.”
“Just like that? You’re okay with me hurting people?” I definitely hit my head. This couldn’t be happening. She would never say these words.
“Not really, but thanks for the heads up.”
I exhaled my disbelief. “This is not a heads up, Diane. You’ll have to be okay with it, because I’m not changing.”
“Did I ask you to change?” She placed a hand on her chest, sounding affronted. “Didn’t I just finish telling you all the things I like about you? If you feel the need to be a criminal, that’s your business. And if I feel the need to be a vain glutton, spending a ridiculous amount of money on shoes I don’t need instead of giving the money to charity where it’ll help folks and do some good, then that’s my business. You know how many people are food insecure in this country? And I have over one hundred pairs of designer shoes. See? We’re both sinful in our own way. So what? We’ll go to hell together with smiles on our faces.”
I tucked my lips between my teeth to keep from laughing and lowered my chin to my chest. This woman bent reality to suit her ambitions. I didn’t know if I was frustrated by her flawed logic or charmed by her determination. Either way, if she’d been a man, she would’ve made an excellent addition to the Wraiths. Hell, she’d probably be running everything.
“Besides,” she went on, “you being a criminal and what you do with other people is beside the point. I’m talking about you and me. Us. Not other people.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No, Diane. You can’t live your life pretending like other people don’t exist.”
She crossed her arms, giving me a look of defiance that sent arousal straight south. I loved that look. It heated my bones and made me want to fuck it right off her face.
“Why the hell not?” She jutted out her chin. “Don’t you pretend other people don’t exist? Why do you get to ignore other people and I don’t?”
Ignoring my body’s building reaction to her, I removed myself a step. “I may ignore the people in your circles, but I have responsibilities to the people in mine. I do not live my life free of others, or their expectations.”
“But don’t you wish you could?” Her gaze turned beseeching. “Don’t you wish you could just tell everyone to go to hell?”
I shut my trap, grinding my jaw. Her question hit a nerve. In the past, I’d taken extended breaks from the Wraiths. I’d left for months, explored new places, immersed myself the life and culture. One of the reasons I’d been so loyal to the brotherhood was because of the freedom.
But that had all changed. I couldn’t leave them unsupervised anymore. They did stupid, evil shit when I was gone, and I always came home to a giant mess.
In Diane’s examination of me, she seemed to sense a weakness, seemed to understand my desire to escape from this prison I’d created for myself, and could tell my lack of freedom was a sore spot.
She exploited it. “I spent the first half of my life worried about other people and look where it got me. Maybe I don’t want to think about other people anymore—except my kids, of course. But everyone else? No, thank you. They can take their opinions and jump in a lake. Maybe it’s time for me to just take what I want.”
I inspected her, confusion and disbelief warring with hope and selfishness. “And you want me.”
“Yes. I want you. But only if—”
“I want you the same.” She didn’t seem to realize, but I wasn’t finishing her sentence. I stated a fact. I wanted her. I wanted what she offered.
“Correct.” She nodded and it looked a little jerky, excited, nervous. “Like I said, dinners and flowers and courtship.”
“From me.”
“From you. But also—” Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat, her eyes wide and earnest. “I want to do the same for you. I’d make you breakfast when you spent the night. I’d buy you gifts. I’d take care of you, too. I want someone to take care of.”