When Tempting a Rogue Read Free Page B

she casually pulled open the vanity’s top drawer.
    William sat up, swinging his long legs over the side of the bed. He stood and began to move toward her with a slow, predatory stride. “I’ll decide when it’s time for me to leave.”
    Unflinching, though she very much wanted to flinch, Vienne raised her gaze to his. “This is my house, my club, and you are my employee. You don’t make any decisions here that aren’t mine.” It was false bravado, but he didn’t have to know that. A slight tremor quivered her right knee, but other than that she held no real fear. Unless William killed her, he couldn’t do anything to her she hadn’t already survived—only a new variant on it.
    He sneered. So much for having any respect or degree of feeling for her. “I gave you what you wanted whenever you wanted it, you frog whore. Now you’re going to deny me?”
    Vienne lifted her chin with just a hint of a mocking smile that really couldn’t be helped. “Yes, you did. And yes, I am. That is the way these things go when an employer makes the foolish choice of taking an employee to bed. You really should leave now.”
    “I’ll leave when I’ve gotten what I came for.” He smiled—a little sharper this time. “You, on your knees.”
    Vienne rolled her eyes. Why was it that so many men seemed to think it was their right to take a woman whether she wanted it or not, simply because she had given her body to them previously? Poor little enfant . William did not understand who had the power in their relationship. It really was unfortunate. She had liked him before he chose to reveal his true nature. He had been most entertaining.
    She withdrew her pearl-handled pistol from the drawer and pointed it at him. Her hand was steady, her aim true and fixed—right between his eyes.
    “You are about to be very disappointed,” she informed him coolly. “You’re not going to get what you want, but you have succeeded in getting yourself dismissed. Now, I’m going to give you to the count of five to gather your belongings and get the hell out of my house.”
    The young man didn’t come any closer, but he eyed the pistol with a cocky confidence that Vienne found terribly annoying. “You won’t shoot me.”
    She arched a brow. How little he’d ascertained about her during their brief affair. If it were Trystan Kane standing in her sight, he would have had enough sense to back away by now. But William wasn’t Trystan.
    “My dear boy, I’ll not only shoot you, but I know how to fix it so no one ever finds your body.” She cocked the hammer. “Une . . . deux . . .”
    He didn’t move. He just stood there, smirking, so certain of his manly control of her. So certain she would cow before him.
    “ . . . trois.”
    Vienne pulled the trigger.

Chapter 2
     
    T he following morning found Trystan enjoying a leisurely breakfast in the dining room of his hotel, the Barrington. He read the paper while sipping a cup of piping hot, strong Turkish coffee imported by one of his concerns in that area. On his plate was an assortment of tropical fruit, juicy and ripe, some crispy bacon, and toast.
    “You eat like a woman,” came his brother’s voice above him.
    Sighing, Trystan snapped his paper closed and set it beside his plate. He wiped his hands on his napkin and looked up just as Archer slid into the chair across from him.
    “I eat like I want to eat,” he replied calmly, waving a waiter over. “What will you have?”
    “Steak and eggs—with fried potatoes and fried bread.”
    Trystan arched a brow. “Would you like your coffee fried as well?”
    Archer brushed the remark aside, used to them as he was. “No, but I would like a shot of Irish in it.”
    The waiter nodded in acquiescence and walked away. Trystan waited until they were alone before commenting. “Do I even need to remind you how early in the day it is?”
    Archer snatched a piece of toast from Trystan’s plate. “Which is exactly why I need the Irish. Say,