Chapter 3
“What?”
The question pulled me fully awake.
Russell stood beside the bed with the list pinched between two fingers. The faint light coming through the curtains caught the creases Nadia had made when she folded it into my bag, and every stupid answer I had given her came rushing back at once.
“You heard me.” His eyes remained on mine. “Why am I the only one not on the list?”
I stared at him, waiting for his mouth to twitch. It did not.
He was serious.
I reached for the paper, but he lifted it above my head before my fingers got anywhere near it. The sheet slipped across my chest with the movement, forcing me to grab it with my other hand.
Russell’s gaze flickered down for half a second before returning to my face.
“Are you serious?” I asked.
“Very.”
“Russell, give it back.”
I did not care that he had seen it. He could frame the bloody thing above his bed for all I cared. I just needed it destroyed before Jamie found out I had spent my first night in the house ranking every member of his team.
I pushed myself higher and made another grab for it. Russell barely moved his arm. The paper remained several humiliating inches above my fingertips while I struggled to keep the sheet covering me.
“Answer the question.”
There was no laugh hiding in his voice. No smug punchline waiting to arrive. That unsettled me more than the list itself.
I dropped back against the pillows and glared up at him. “Why do you even care?”
Russell lowered his arm, but he didn't give the list back. He looked down at the names again as though he might find an explanation hidden between them.
Micah. Paddy. Tom. Kieran.
Everyone except him.
The silence continued long enough to become strange.
“Fine.” I crossed my arms over the sheet. “You’re just not my type.”
Something changed in his face.
It was small. A brief stillness. The slightest tightening in his jaw. But I caught it, and suddenly this stopped feeling like Russell teasing me because he had found something embarrassing.
My answer had actually landed.
I raised my eyebrows. “Does that answer your question?”
He folded the list once and came closer. “What is your type, then?”
The bed was already enormous, yet the room seemed to shrink with every step he took.
“Why?” I asked. “Are you planning to reinvent yourself?”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “I’m not your type, but Micah is?”
The way he said Micah’s name almost made me smile. “Apparently.”
“What does he have that I don’t?”
A surprised laugh escaped me. Russell’s frown deepened, which only made it worse.
“Oh my God.” I covered my mouth, but another laugh slipped through. “You’re genuinely offended.”
“I asked you a question.”
“And I’m trying to understand why the great Russell Hale is having a personal crisis because one woman didn’t put him on a drunken list.”
He moved closer until his knees nearly touched the side of the mattress. I had to tip my head back to keep looking at him.
“You must be used to women falling all over you,” I said. “Is that what this is? You genuinely can’t understand why one woman wouldn’t?”
“I am used to it, most women have taste.”
He said it without a trace of embarrassment.
“What kind of ego is this?”
“You call it ego.” His gaze moved over my face, unhurried and far too observant. “I call it knowing when someone is lying.”
My laughter faded.
He was close enough now that I could smell the clean scent of his shower beneath the faint trace of alcohol still clinging to my own skin. Close enough that I became painfully aware that I was naked beneath one of his sheets while arguing that I felt nothing for him.
“You think I’m lying?” I asked. “You really believe every woman who meets you eventually loses her mind? Sorry to burst your bubble, you just aren't it for me Hale."
“You’re living here for six weeks, Darcy.”
“So?”
“Six weeks is a long time...”
Russell leaned down, stopping before any part of him touched me. His face was close enough that his breath warmed my cheek.
My stomach clenched.
The reaction was immediate and completely disloyal. My pulse jumped beneath my skin, and my eyes betrayed me by dropping to his mouth again.
“You seriously think I have so little control that I’ll throw myself at you before my contract ends?”
“I think you’ll last two weeks.”
“Two?”
His gaze fell to my mouth. “Three, if I make it easy for you.”
I stared at him, offended by how calmly he said it.
Then an idea formed.
“Fine.” I lifted my chin. “Let’s make it six.”
Russell’s attention returned to my eyes. “Six what?”
“Six weeks.” I tightened my grip on the sheet. “Nothing happens between us. No kissing. No touching. Not even an accidental shoulder brush.”
One eyebrow rose. “A no-touch clause?”
“Exactly. You can flirt, stare, walk around half naked or perform whatever tragic routine usually makes women lose their minds. It just won’t work on me.”
Russell studied me for a moment. “You’re making a lot of rules for something you claim you don’t want.”
“I like proving arrogant men wrong.”
“And if you touch me first?”
“You win.”
His eyes dropped to the hand I had raised between us, “careful.”
I followed his gaze and realised I had instinctively offered it for a handshake.
“That would be a very short bet,” he said.
I pulled my hand back beneath the sheet. Russell’s smile appeared slowly, and I hated how much warmer the room felt because of it.
“Fine,” he said. “But there has to be something at stake. Otherwise, Darcy, it isn’t a bet.”
The mattress dipped as he placed one hand beside my bare thigh. His other arm settled near my hip, surrounding me without allowing so much as his sleeve to brush my skin.
My pulse began thudding against my throat.
“What do you want?” I asked.
His gaze travelled over my face before stopping on my lips. “If you touch me first, I get one kiss.”
My thoughts scattered. “One kiss?”
“Anywhere I choose.”
Heat spread beneath the sheet. I hoped desperately that it did not reach my face.
“And if you touch me first?”
“That's for me to tell, and for you to find out."
He leaned closer until barely an inch remained between our mouths.
“Unless you’re already reconsidering,” he murmured.
I should have laughed. I should have taken the list and told him to get out.
Instead, I heard myself whisper, “Deal.”