Duched(18)

"You struck royalty."

 

 

 

"I struck you. You're like diet royalty. It doesn't count," her counter gets us both laughing again.

 

 

 

I shake my head. "What was the test over?"

 

 

 

"Art History of the Renaissance Era. This was just a basic names to philosophies test."

 

 

 

"You're right. That would bore me." When she scowls once more, I lightly laugh in response. "To be fair, I'm not a fan of any sort of history. Art or otherwise."

 

 

 

"Shocking," Brie mocks. "What do you like then? Besides sports."

 

 

 

"How did you-"

 

 

 

"Lucky frat boy, mindless jock kinda guess," she sneers.

 

 

 

"I enjoy music. Occasionally the theatre."

 

 

 

"How about on a more intellectual level?"

 

 

 

"Environmental effects on adolescents."

 

 

 

Her mouth becomes agape yet again.

 

 

 

I do enjoy having her make that face and not only because I enjoy the idea of sliding my cock between her lips.

 

 

 

Pleased with myself, I glance out the window just as we pull into the line at the event center. My eyes read and reread the sign repeatedly. Certain we're in the wrong area or at least on the wrong night, I turn to allow our eyes meet. "Monster Truck Mayhem? We're going to monster truck show?"  

 

 

 

She battles the urge to smile. "Problem?"

 

 

 

I glance down at my attire and state, "You said, dress to impress."

 

 

 

"Yes. But I never specified who your attire would need to impress." Her expression becomes victorious. "Next time I advise you to get all the information before making wardrobe choices."

 

 

 

Swiss pulls up to the parking lot attendant who immediately asks for payment. Brie makes a motion to reach in her pocket when I cease her movements. "I've got it." After handing Swiss cash from my own wallet, I state to her, "This game isn't over." Shedding my suit jacket, I drape it over the seat beside us. "And since you don't play fair, neither shall I."

 

 

 

"Was that a threat?"

 

 

 

"It was a warning."

 

 

 

Brie's eye flash a mesh of intrigue and excitement. She hesitates to drag her attention away from me as I adjust the sleeves of my white button down shirt.

 

 

 

Do not remind me how ridiculous I look at this moment. I do wish I had different shoes above all else. These wing tips will be absolutely ruined. If you'll excuse me, I have revenge to be plotting on this beautiful, brilliant woman.

 

 

 

"I've only got two tickets." Her announcement shifts Swiss in his seat. "There might be more tickets available but-"

 

 

 

"It's fine," I end the conversation before it can get the direction it was headed. "Swiss can wait in the vehicle. This isn't exactly a high threat situation. Other than the fact I'm wearing a St. Valmonte suit at a monster truck show, I highly doubt anyone will give me a second glance."

 

 

 

My bodyguard's mouth cracks open to argue, yet sees the stern expression on my face and closes.

 

 

 

Swiss, while terrifying based on appearance, happens to be remarkably understanding. He's mastered the art of reading a situation and declaring if my request for space is acceptable or to be ignored. Most of the time we agree on how to handle my public presence. It's very rare he pulls the 'your father decrees' card.

 

 

 

"I'll have my phone. If I need anything, I'll call."

 

 

 

"Don't worry, Army Man." Brie leans forward towards him. "I won't let him wander into the middle of the arena to get run over or anything. Even if a big part of me does want that."

 

 

 

He resists the urge to laugh but gives into the one to smile.

 

 

 

Not sure I enjoy them being on a team against me.

 

 

 

Swiss drops the two of us as close to the entrance of the event center as possible.

 

 

 

The moment we're headed towards the doors, Brie asks, "Does it bother you to constantly have a babysitter? I mean you clearly need one-"

 

 

 

"Clearly," I echo.

 

 

 

"-but does it ever irritate you? Does it ever annoy the hell out of you that you can't just walk around the grocery store without an extra pair of eyes on you?"

 

 

 

Her odd phrasing kicks up the corner of my lip. "You get used to it."