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was Blane. No doubt, he was stepping out

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    of one of the fetish-themed rooms down the corridor behind him, just as she’d seen him do night after night during her time in the city.
    Seeing him now, tugging his zipper into place, her blood practically boiled with anger.
    But it wasn’t the women that agitated her.
    He didn’t even look at her. “Watch where you’re goin’.”
    “You stepped out in front of me. I can’t help it if you’re too busy running away from some hu—girl to pay attention.”
    His green eyes rolled up to her. “Oh. It’s you.” His lips parted in a bright smile. “Still didn’t get laid, did you, Princess ?”
    The smug look on his face made her hand curl into a fist.
    Then she tried to loosen her fingers. What was it about him that made all of her control fly right out the window? They’d been on the verge of physical battles every day since she’d arrived. Of course, it was his fault. He just couldn’t let the opportunity to jab her pass by unnoticed.
    Blane leaned closer. She could smell the human’s blood on his breath, and the vibration of confidence and sexual interest rolled over her as it did every time he was so near. “You know, I’d be glad to take care of that for you.” He thumbed toward the hallway. “We could go back into one of those rooms, and—”
    “No.” Christiana took a deep, steadying breath and tried to smile. “While I’m sure that might appeal to those canes you’re so fond of, nothing sounds less appealing to me right now.”
    His jaw clenched. “Afraid you might like it?”
    “I have no doubt you’re well practiced.” She smiled genuinely at the thought. She’d had plenty of time to consider that in the past two weeks. “It’s that precise idea that makes me sure

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    that I don’t need to be alone in any room with you.”
    The confidence swelled around them. He probably thought he’d figured her out. The fool.
    “So, you’re hot for me.”
    “On the contrary. I think you are a narcissistic chauvinist.” Christiana gritted her teeth, then forced her jaw to relax. She’d like to think he wouldn’t know what the insult meant, but Blane had proved over the fortnight of her stay that he was much more intelligent than he appeared.
    “But you think I’m hot.”
    “You aren’t my type.”
    It was a lie. Physically speaking, he was attractive, a broad wall of tanned muscle with an edge that went beyond the black-and-green hair that fell around his face, or the earring in his ear.
    No woman in her right mind would call him unattractive. But she wasn’t going to be roped in.
    She’d spent the entire trip avoiding him and his advances. It was too late to fail now.
    Christiana stepped around him.
    Blane caught her arm and pulled her back to look at him. “And what’s your type , Princess?”
    She groaned. The way he insisted on calling her that, always with that tone that implied he thought she was a snob, was beginning to wear on her nerves. “Someone with taste and self respect.”
    “Ouch. That hurt.” He grabbed his chest and chuckled. “I’m not stuck up enough for you?
    Don’t flatter yourself. I’m willing to do you a favor. I offered to fuck you, not become your compagno .”
    “When you’re my age, you don’t waste time on fratello who are looking for a quick fuck .

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    It’s never that uncomplicated.”
    “You’re not exactly my type either.”
    That actually did sting. Only because Christiana knew it was true; Blane had made that much apparent. Still, she said, “Enlighten me.”
    “You’ve got a stick up your ass.”
    “Because I don’t drop down on my knees and worship the ground you walk on?”
    “Because you won’t admit that you’re attracted to me.” He leaned forward. “Or that you’re into women.”
    A lump grew in Christiana’s throat. She struggled to speak around it. Blane was too smart. “Not this again. You’ve lost your mind.”
    “I saw you working with Elena. You were checking