She gave me that wide-eyed look—fake innocence wrapped in glitter. “I would love to,” she said sweetly. “But the thing is... my feet hurt so much from all this dancing. I don’t think I can walk.”
Fuck that—I didn’t have time for all this bullshit.
One sharp motion—my arms around her waist, and she was over my shoulder like a stubborn sack of potatoes that refused to cooperate. She yelped, half in surprise, half in delight.
“What the hell are you doing?” she laughed, squirming a little as I started carrying her across the VIP section.
The arrogant guy she’d been dancing with earlier shot to his feet. “Hey! What the fuck, dude?”
I didn’t even look at him. I couldn’t have described his face if you paid me.
It was barely a dress, so short I could feel the hem riding up against my shoulder. Fuck, everyone was about to get a full view—ass, pussy, the whole goddamn show. I didn’t know why I cared, but I did. I yanked it down and covered the back of her thighs. Mine to handle. Not theirs to see.
“I didn’t sign up for this shit,” I muttered.
She giggled. “You know, I have a pretty good view from here.”
I groaned. “Shut up.”
“No, really. Very firm. Very sculpted. I’m impressed.”
“Malaya.”
“Yes?”
“You’re two seconds from getting dropped in a sewer.”
“Mmm how romantic.”
By the time we got to my car, I was praying for patience—or a reason to throw her in the trunk.
I set her down, yanked open the passenger door, and pressed one hand to the top of her head, the other bracing her back. Then I shoved her forward, guiding her down and into the seat like she was cargo I was done dealing with. She gasped, laughing, her dress riding up again as she twisted to face me, clearly thrilled by the whole thing like being thrown into a car was foreplay.
She grinned up at me like I’d just proposed. “You know, that was kind of hot. But also... very rude.”
I slammed the door shut before she could keep talking.
As soon as I got into the driver’s seat, she looked over and said, “Take me to your place,” casual as hell—like she was ordering food.
I blinked at her. “Did you hit your head on the way in?”
She pouted, playful. “What? If I go home like this and my father sees I’ve been drinking, I’ll get in trouble. Please. Just tonight.”
“Yeah, that’s not happening in this lifetime.”
She leaned toward me, voice low and flirtatious. “Come on, I’ll owe you. Anything you want.”
I barked a humorless laugh. “Want something from you? Yeah, like a migraine. Sit back. You’re going home.”
She folded her arms, eyebrows lifting. “You really want him to see me like this? He can be cruel, you know. Really cruel.”
I tilted my head, smiling like I was enjoying this way too much. “You’re putting on quite a performance. Shame it’s not convincing.”
She huffed, turning to stare out the window, sulking like a kid told no dessert. Didn’t speak another word until we reached the mansion.
The second we pulled in, she jumped out and started speed-walking toward the house.
I got out and followed her. The house was already quiet at this hour, aside from the distant guards making their rounds.
