Still a Bad Boy(7)

By: Ada Scott

“Mr. Kinsley, it’s me, Kendall,” I said.

“How did it go? Is it over? Did you get everything?”

“I’m still at the restaurant, he’s just stepped out to take a phone call.”

“How is it going?” he repeated.

“It’s… um… Mr. Kinsley,” I looked around and then held my hand over my mouth and the phone, speaking in a harsh whisper. “He’s flirting with me! What do I do?”

A stunned silence was my only response for a while. “Flirt back?” he finally said, disbelief evident in his voice.

“That’s not, like, unprofessional or anything?” I asked.

The sound of his voice went distant for a second before I heard a few muffled curses. “No, Kendall. Use it if you’ve got it. All the greats have done it.”


“Oh yeah. Go ahead. You nail this interview and you’re set for life at The Weekly Enquirer, you know that, right?”

“Oh my gosh… OK. I won’t let you down, Mr. Kinsley!”

“Great, call me as soon as it’s over,” he said.

“OK. Bye.”

“Bye.” I put my phone away and looked for Jace, but it seemed that his call was more involved than mine.

OK. Flirt back. Easy, women have the upper hand on that front, right? Except… I had no idea what to do. My sisters had tried to explain the art to me, but it just never clicked.

The fact that it came so naturally to them, apparently to every woman but me, had always made me feel almost less than human, like there was something special missing from me that made me worth less than everybody else. They could do more with a flick of their hair or a bitten bottom lip than I could ever do.

Yet, hadn’t Jace been looking at me all night, like I was just as appetizing as the masterfully crafted meals that had been placed in front of us? At his office too?

Butterflies fluttered in my stomach when I remembered him looking down my top as if he liked the view. I glanced furtively from side to side and then looked down myself.

My breasts were on the small side, not like his receptionist, not like all the girls he had his photograph taken with. But he did look.

Clearing my throat quietly as if that was a good distraction I brought my hand to the top of my shirt, near my neck. I could feel it shaking as my inhibitions fought tooth and nail with my need to do what it took to prove myself in the big wide world and my desire to have Jace’s eyes on me.

I undid the top button and pushed the sides of my shirt open a little. It was, possibly, the bravest thing I ever did.

Nobody eating around me seemed to notice the shameless hussy in their midst and I laid my hands flat on the table to keep them steady while I braced myself to pour on whatever charm I could muster.

The young couple who had been at the front desk walked between the tables, led by a waiter, talking loudly and all puffed up with self-importance. They both looked a little on the merry side and the woman stumbled on her high heels as she was passing our table.

Her thigh bumped the edge and my glass of wine toppled straight into my lap. I yelped at the sudden cold on my thighs and scrambled for a napkin.

The woman regained her balance and brought her hand to her mouth, looking like she was going to say sorry for a second. Then she looked me up and down, and seemed to decide that you don’t need to apologize to people below your station or something.

“Be careful!” I said.

Well, she didn’t like that. “What’s your problem?”

“What do you think? You just spilled my drink all over my skirt!”

She laughed. “Well, it’s not like it was a very nice skirt. It looks like it came out of some bargain bin.”

I could feel all eyes on me, but not in a good way like when Jace looked at me. All that attention drawn to my cheap clothes. I had got the skirt from a bargain bin.

“It was a nice skirt,” I murmured, already certain of defeat.

“Hey, don’t disrespect my fiancé,” said the man with her.

I looked up at him and then between the two of them. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes, the shame of it all. All around me, people were watching, some of them looked uncomfortable, some of them merely interested. A few seemed to be enjoying the way the riff-raff was being put in her place.

I was going to flirt with the hottest guy I’d ever seen in real life. I was going to have fun, let myself pretend he really wanted me, and get the interview of the century all at the same time.

Instead, I thought I was probably about five seconds away from running out that front door sobbing.

Chapter 6


I was going to fucking detonate. Three guys dead and Santino escaped? Since when did he turn into a fucking ninja?

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