The Mechanic by Vanessa Waltz

Author:Vanessa Waltz [Waltz, Vanessa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-08-04T04:00:00+00:00

“Holy crap,” Daisy exclaims as she takes a step inside. “This is… wow.”

A warped image of Daisy ripples on the golden, circular plate that hangs over my fireplace. She gazes over my vast apartment, taking in the giant LCD screen, my mismatched furniture, the crown moldings, the giant Manchester United poster. She raises an eyebrow.

“I thought anything from England was scum.”

“I never said that, love. I said we’re not English, which is true.”

She mutters something indistinct.

I watch as the Daisy reflection bites her lip as she searches for something positive to say. She stares pointedly at the coffee table, which was made out of reclaimed church pews, and then at the leather chairs surrounding the fire.

“What?” I say finally.

“It’s, um… weird.”

“What’s weird?”

“You’ve got like a hipster vibe,” she says, motioning toward the coffee table. “And then you’ve got like a prissy-grandma vibe at the same time.” She points toward one of the antique footstools.

“I’m not an interior decorator.”

“That’s obvious.”

My jaw goes slack as she insults me casually and tests my bed by throwing herself over the mattress. She splays her limbs across the mattress, closing her eyes. They flutter open when she hears my footsteps.

“You know, the girls I usually bring up here don’t give a flying fuck about my décor.”

“They’re too preoccupied with the fact they’re going to fuck a prince to realize you’re a jerk with bad taste.”

“I’m glad you’ve finally realized how life-changing my cock can be.”

She picks at her fingernails. “More like I’ve realized how dumb girls can be.”

I let out a long sigh. “I’m getting a little tired of your cheek.”

“If you’re tired of my cheeks why do you keep staring at my ass?”

My hands twitch as she rolls over my bed, her shirt riding up just a little to expose a line of tantalizing skin.

“Talking to you is like being slapped again and again.”

“Forgive me for being a little crabby. I’ve spent a whole day on that concrete slab in the dungeons, freezing my ass off, and the only way out of breaking my back is to marry you.”

“What’s so wrong with me?”

The innocent question takes her off guard for a moment.

“Are you kidding me? You’re the Dirty Prince!”

“That’s right, love. All that title means is I’m talented with my dick.”

“Please, that does not mean anything. All it means is that there are girls willing to sleep with you.”

“Wouldn’t you rather find out for yourself?”

“No thank you.” She glowers at me.

Fuck me, but I want her. She looks up at me through long, black lashes. Her mouth looks like a tight rosebud.

I sit down on the edge of my bed and tear the shirt from my back. I throw it across the room. It lands in a crumpled heap. I feel her gaze crawling all over my muscles, and her mouth loosens ever so slightly as I turn around, winking at her. The mattress hardly makes a sound as I lay down beside Daisy, who openly stares at me. She has the finest black hair I’ve ever seen, and it fans over her cheek so beautifully that I catch myself staring at it.

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