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‘Shall we cast a wager?’

Eleanore turned. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘A wager. On who will kiss whom first.’

‘You’re mad.’

‘Is that a yes?’

Lukas could hear the words coming out of his mouth, but he couldn’t quite believe them. She’d aggravated him with the way she so easily froze him out. And the more she tried to mind her ps and qs with him, the more he wanted to run roughshod all over them.

‘How about if I kiss you first you can have Harrington’s name above the door of the hotel?’

Eleanore stilled. ‘Are you serious?’

‘Why not?’

She couldn’t believe he would wager that. ‘And what happens if I kiss you first?’

‘Worried about your self-control, moya krasavitsa?’

She hated not knowing what he was calling her, but she wouldn’t lower herself to ask. Let him have his fun. Men and their egos.

Russian's Ruthless Demand

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