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I can’t argue with him there and I lower my gaze so I don’t see the pity in his eyes. He tips my chin to stare into his eyes and says softly, “We will go to eat, and you will behave. Remember your place and act accordingly.”
There he is. The arrogant bastard I always knew he was. Disguised for a moment by a kind smile and soft touch. Know my place.
What a fucking disgrace and despite wanting to unleash a filthy tirade of Tourette’s onto him, I merely sigh and pull away from his touch.
“Fine. I’ll play your Barbie doll, but only because I’m hungry and the sooner we do this, the sooner you’ll let me leave.”
He offers me his arm with no other word, and I huff as I wrap my fingers around his huge biceps, wishing like crazy he was an ugly motherfucker and not every fantasy I ever had.
We head back to the car showroom. I would say garage, but it’s nothing like that.
He heads toward a purple Lamborghini and as the door rises majestically, I say incredulously, “We can’t go in this.”
“Why not?” he stares back at me with his enigmatic gaze, and I gasp, “It’s well, ostentatious. Everyone will look and conclude you’re a prick.”
“A prick?” He raises his eyes, and I can’t help but smirk.
“I mean, haven’t you ever thought that? You see some flash bastard driving a car that stands out from the crowd and rather than be impressed, you just pity him.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “I admire his taste.”
It makes me laugh out loud and for some reason, it gives me a fit of the giggles. I am delirious as the tears roll down my face and I stare at the man who could star in movies standing beside a high-performance vehicle, looking like every stereotype ever written about.
“I fail to see what’s funny.”
He appears annoyed, which makes me laugh even harder and I’m overjoyed that the tears are streaking down my face ruining that cold bitch’s handiwork.
To add to the destruction, I wipe my eyes with my fingers, hoping I’ve smeared the mascara across my face.
To his credit, he merely stands and watches me until I compose myself and then he says firmly, “If you’ve finished, please get in the fucking car.”
“Watch your language.” I fire back and giggle again at the resigned fury in his eyes.
He taps the top of the car impatiently and with a deep sigh, I lower myself into the car, which is seriously not easy to do and as my legs tangle in the dress, I fall in a heap onto the leather, which causes me to giggle even harder.
He slams the door with a hint of anger and I’m strangely satisfied about that. I enjoy prodding the bear and am having way too much fun to care what that means for me.
He wastes no time in joining me and as he starts the engine, the dull roar causes my heart to jump.
“Wow, that sounds–” I drag in a deep breath and whisper, “Powerful.”
He says nothing and as he handbrake turns toward the elevator thingy, I roll my eyes.
“You just had to prove my point, didn’t you?”
“Your point?”
“That you’re a stereotypical asshole. Why don’t you just grow up?”
I laugh softly as the car makes it safely into the elevator and he turns to face me, with anger flashing from his eyes. Now we’re in the confined space with nowhere to go, my heart beats a little too fast for my liking as he reaches across and smears his thumb under my eyes.
“You’re a mess.” He says roughly, and I shrug.
“You don’t know the half of it. At least now it’s obvious.”
I hate the tears that threaten to spill, and I hate the concern in his eyes even more.
“I want to know everything about you, little assassin.” His soft, husky voice is far more destructive than his angry one and I lower my eyes.
