Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
To my surprise, his lips quirk up at the edges, but it’s so brief I almost miss it. “And I’d do it again,” he whispered. “Hell, a part of me thinks it’d do you real good to feel more than my hand on your ass.”
“What?” I ask. He’s still holding my chin and for some reason, my voice is shaky.
“Take you over my knee,” he says, his sapphire gaze molten. “Tie you up. Really take control from you and strip away those layers. To try to tame that wildcat in you.” His voice is deep and soft as he runs his thumb over my cheek. “And maybe, just maybe, over time, see some of that anger you wear like a cape fade.” He says it almost wistfully.
I can’t take this anymore. “Take me home,” I whisper. And just like that, the spell is broken. His eyes shutter and I think I’ve imagined any tenderness.
“Yeah,” he says. “Looks like they didn’t do much. Ice that damn lip when you get home,” he repeats, his voice so distant and cold it feels almost cruel.
I huff in indignation but don’t reply.
I can take his anger. I can take his scorn. But I won’t let him play with me.
“Your address?” he asks. I don’t look at him when I tell him. I don’t want to see whatever the hell is response is—pity? Indignation?
Whatever.
But as soon as we start heading home, I groan.
“What is it?” he snaps. God, this man is irritable.
“I forgot I have to get some groceries,” I tell him. Suddenly, I’m tired. So tired I want to curl up in a ball in this ridiculously expensive car of his and fall asleep. “I promised Bailey I’d bring something home.”
I lean back against the seat and close my eyes. It’s warm and comfortable in here, like laying in a leather armchair.
“Right,” he says. “Your boyfriend’s waiting.”
“Oh, shut up,” I tell him. I don’t bother to tell him Bailey’s my sister. He might have saved me, but he doesn’t deserve to know anything about me.
“Watch it, Cora,” he warns, in a tone that gets my attention. I blame our earlier scene, for my heartbeat quickening at his admonition. “You’re out of free passes. Don’t speak to me that way again.”
“Or what?” I say, opening my eyes. “You’ll spank me again? That’s how you do things in Richville?”
Meeting my gaze squarely, his one-word answer makes my pulse race.
“Yes.”
I swallow and look away, trying to conjure up indignation. And though he’s been a jerk, he’s taking me home and just saved me, so I can at least play nice. We ride in silence until his driver pulls up to a small, twenty-four-hour grocery store a block or so away from my apartment.
“Thank you,” I tell him, reaching for the handle of the door.
“Oh no, you don’t,” he says. “You stay here.”
He issues orders to his driver, and I watch in surprise as the man enters the store.
“So, wait. You tell everyone what to do and they do it?”
With a bored sigh, he mutters, “Yes. Everyone.”
“And if they don’t do what you say?”
“I fire them, break up with them, or sue them, depending on who they are.”
“Well, then,” I mutter. “Must be nice to be king.”
“It is.”
Another beat passes in silence. I don’t know what to say, so I say nothing. Soon, his driver comes out with two huge bags of groceries.
“God,” I tell him. “I don’t have that much to pay him. I just have—”
He rolls his eyes. “Jesus Christ. Enough.”
I clamp my mouth shut, as the man puts the groceries in the back of the car, then comes back to the driver’s seat.
“You can’t pay for my groceries,” I protest. “It’s—” But I’m at a loss for words. I truly don’t know what to say. My pride aches. I don’t like taking handouts. But at the same time, if I can pocket the money I made tonight, it’s probably wise.
“I just want it clear that I don’t want to be beholden to you,” I tell him. “I don’t—”
“Stop.”
He’s quite the conversationalist.
We drive in silence until we pull up in front of my apartment building.
“Call Bailey,” he says. “Make him carry the groceries.”
I shake my head. “Bailey’s asleep,” I tell him and decide then I’m done. I’m not going to let him get out of this car thinking I let him get me off even though I have a boyfriend. I’m not that type of girl, and just because he’s an asshole doesn’t mean he gets to assume I am.
“For your information,” I tell him. “Bailey’s my sister. Not my boyfriend. Maybe going forward it’s best if you don’t make assumptions about me.” I try to toss my head with scorn, but instead just manage to make my hair fall into my face.
“Good night,” I tell him, enjoying the look of surprise on his face the split second before he schools his features.