Lord of Vice by Erica Ridley

Author:Erica Ridley
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: 0
Published: 2018-08-30T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER 12

M ax burst out of his empty apartment.

The best thing about Tuesday used to be the break from the Cloven Hoof. A respite from responsibilities, twenty-four hours without accounts to pay, or reports to write. A break from other people.

But Max didn’t want a break. Not from one person in particular. The one who vexed him and invigorated him and drove him mad with frustration, and longing, and impossibility.

He missed her.

No worse foolishness had ever occurred in a heart he had long kept guarded behind layers of steel and stone. He couldn’t have her. Shouldn’t want her. Would be rid of her in less than a month’s time. A fact he should be celebrating, not mourning.

And yet here he was, dodging mud puddles on the uneven dirt street outside his home, to pay an errand boy to deliver a message to the fashionable part of town.

A missive containing only five words:

Basil,

My house.

Your devil

HE GAVE the lad an extra shilling to ensure he would run off with haste before Max could change his mind.

Normally, Max never changed his mind. That’s what planning was for.

One considered the facts. Catalogued the details. Parsed the opportunities. Once one had determined the best strategy to take, one took it. That’s how he had run his entire life. The reason why he was successful.

But proper planning did not explain standing in the rain to pay an errand boy to send a very foolish message.

Irritated with himself, he turned around and strode back up the walk into his home.

He had analyzed with care. The facts were obvious. No good could come of this. She knew it; he knew it. And yet her words haunted him.

I would rather be with you.

He was not ready to admit he wished the same thing. She had tricked him, and he had not yet forgiven her. Despite his anger and disappointment, he had no choice but to acknowledge how much he missed her. It had been twelve hours. Who missed someone after twelve hours? It was ridiculous. The superlative fancy of romantic poets, not practical men who knew better.

And yet he paced from door to sitting room and back again. What if she didn’t come?

What if she did?

He glanced about his small flat. There was nothing to tidy. He had never liked leaving anything not as expected. His world was ordered. Everything in its place.

Everything except a heart that seemed to be trying to beat its way out of his chest.

His invitation was not for a romantic assignation, he reminded himself. He was not as stupid as that, and neither was she. This was a...

Well, what was it, then?

A business meeting, he decided. She had succeeded very prettily in taking advantage of him, and he would do the same to her. As simple as that.

He would not touch her. That much he knew for sure. She was the daughter of a lord, destined for the sort of gentleman who possessed a handful of courtesy titles behind his name.

But her clever mind worked in ways other brains could not.

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