“Put me down,” I request as my mortified eyes dart around the restaurant to see several patrons watching our exchange.
I’d hoped Isaac would react, but I never would have thought he’d drag me out of an elegant restaurant while hundreds of patrons watch in hilarity.
“Isaac, put me down,” I demand more sternly.
Jerking my arms and legs out, I try to get him to release his grasp around my waist. He doesn't utter a word, but I can hear his jaw ticking relentlessly. Frigid air causes my arms to bristle with goosebumps when he walks us outside. I stop wailing, expecting him to put me back on my feet now that we're outside and no longer attracting the attention of other patrons. But he doesn’t put me down. Instead, he shoves me into the backseat of his Mercedes-Benz town car.
“Stay here,” he demands through gritted teeth before slamming the door.
I crawl across the plush leather seat and yank on the door handle. Growling in frustration, I flop into the dark gray seats. The door is locked, and there is no locking mechanism in sight.
I stop banging my fists on the window when a chuckle echoes in the cab. Turning my infuriated eyes, I'm greeted by the mischievous grin of Hugo, glaring at me through the rearview mirror.
“Hey, Isabelle,” he greets, his tone full of amusement.
“Unlock the doors, Hugo.”
He shakes his head. “No can do; I like my job.”
I glare at him, unappreciative of the humor in his tone. He isn’t the least bit fazed by my irate scowl. His grin enlarges the longer I stare at him.
Just as I'm about to crawl over the privacy divider to unlock the doors myself, the back passenger door opens and Isaac peers inside.
Time stands still when I catch his angry glare. It is pulse-quickening delicious.
When he throws my coat and purse to me, a smile curves on my mouth. My inner vixen is pleased that even while angry, he is still considerate enough to collect my belongings.
My smile is wiped right off my face when Tatiana slides into the seat next to me. Her cheap floral perfume makes my wine-sloshed stomach churn.
When Isaac slips in next to her and slams the door shut, my anger returns full pelt.
“Open the door, Hugo,” I demand when my rough yanks on the door latch are fruitless.
My jaw twitches so badly, my back molars grind together, and blood surges through my veins so fast, I’m afraid I may soon have a coronary.
“Where to, Boss?” Hugo questions, snubbing my request.
“Isabelle’s apartment,” Isaac’s eyes flick to mine.
He’s watching me but has Tatiana snuggled in the crook of his arm. I nearly heave on the expensive leather seats when he runs his index finger along my clenched fist, and the hairs on my arms bristle from his touch.
Stupid, traitorous body.
Disgusted with my body’s reaction to him, I grunt, “Move!”
When I dive over Tatiana’s barely-covered stick-thin thighs, I kick my legs out wildly, ensuring my four-inch heels dig into Isaac’s trouser-covered leg as I throw my body over the privacy partition.
“Close your eyes, Hugo, or you’ll cop an eye full,” I warn before scissoring my legs into the front seat as he speeds down the street.
My maneuver is extremely un-lady like with my backside being thrust into Hugo's face, but effective when I plop into the seat beside him.
Hugo remains quiet, but his teeth glow in the moonlight when I lean over his chest to raise the blacked-out partition, blocking my view of Isaac and his date.
* * *
By the time we arrive at my apartment, my anger has gone from a slow simmer to a full boil. I thought listening to Tatiana’s annoying voice was torture, but not hearing it was ten times worse. Once I raised the privacy partition, I couldn’t hear or see one thing Isaac and his date were doing the entire trip. I chewed off two of my French-manicured tips just to force myself not to lower the partition.
“Thanks for the lift,” I grunt when Hugo finally releases the lock mechanism.
