His phone buzzed. He flicked it on. A line of tension made his forehead furrow as he read the text. If only the man had a clue about what was important about life.
Still, she wasn’t here to enlighten him, even if he paid her any attention. Which was doubtful. No, she couldn’t allow herself to soften towards him and give him some much-needed advice. She had a war to win. “I can plan my own day.”
His words were distracted, his gaze centered on his phone. “You’ll be spending the day at the hotel salon. The clothes are good, yet only the first step.”
“The first step to what?”
Her tone must have alerted him. There were problems. His focus swung back to her and his gaze grew icy. “I thought we had resolved this last night. I don’t appreciate this attitude you exhibit with me.”
“I don’t want to spend my day being slathered with lotions and potions,” she spat at him. “I would much rather explore New York City.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you.” His tone told her the exact opposite. “I’m afraid you need further assistance before appearing as my woman this evening.”
Her pride rebelled, as memories echoed. “I look fine without a ton of makeup plastered on my face.”
A dark brow arched. “You have a very odd idea of what will be done to you. I have told them what I want and I believe you will be pleased.”
“I won’t be.”
“Is that so.” He cocked his head with an air of disdain and disbelief. “But that is not the point. The point is for me to be pleased and I have every assurance I will be.”
Before she could punch him in the nose, he stood. His presence, the potent power of his body, silenced her for exactly long enough for him to get a list of his commandments announced before she could respond to his last salvo. “I’ll return at seven. Wear the red gown. We’ll be attending a formal event.”
She finally found her tongue. “I don’t want—”
“Your wants are immaterial.” He prowled to the stairs, his mobile in hand, his attention already distracted again. “It is mine that are paramount.”
“You are the most arrogant—”
“Again, I must remind you.” He glared over his shoulder, his gaze stormy with irritation. “Your father, Darcy. Your father.”
He turned once more and ascended the last steps, disappearing into the bedroom. The man used his weapon against her well. Another win added to his column.
She could run up the stairs and fight with him some more. That would mean risking seeing him naked, though. Which would only exacerbate this unfamiliar lust she wrestled with.
There was the crux of the problem. Why he kept winning this battle of wills. She’d come down here and promptly fallen into that pesky swamp of lust by ogling his feet for God’s sake. She’d let herself get distracted and boom. Any thoughts of charming him disappeared when he did his usual arrogant routine. Rather than letting his arrogance roll off her, she’d let her agitated lust turn into pugnacious demands.
Which only irritated the man.
A new approach was what was needed to win the day. It was up to her to master this new and frightening response to this man. She merely needed to figure out how to quash the lust once and for all.
“He’s just a man,” she whispered to herself. “Like every other man on the planet.”
This was how she had to view him. Simply another guy. And apparently, she had the entire day to drill this into her skull. So, she’d sit and get slathered and plastered and use the time wisely.
Focus. Focus.
There would be no more swampy lust no matter how many dimples or feet he flashed. There would be no more attitude from her no matter how egotistical he was. As a substitute, she would deploy her own weapons.
Memories of her mum washed through her.
The long red nails. The blue sparkly eye makeup and bubblegum-pink lipstick. The high laughter, the inevitable glass of wine as she readied herself, the glazed eyes.
A little girl picked up a lot if she only watched and listened.
She usually shied away from it all. Used other skills. Yet some memories didn’t fade.
He wanted her glamorized like a pretty doll? She could do that in spades. He wanted her dressed in a fancy new gown, ready and waiting for her lord and master? She could do that. And much to his surprise, bring him to his knees before her.
Today, she would climb out of this swamp of lust.
Tonight she’d push him into it. He would be the one distracted and disturbed.
She’d win this battle and then the war with the Great Man using the ploys she’d learned so well from her mum. Ploys that had driven Lucy Moran to her death would be used well by her daughter. Darcy Moran would be a winner, not a loser.