He walked up to the front desk.Where he very clearly got us a room.The clerk handed a keycard to Stefan.
What.
The.
Heck?
He guided me to the elevator.Stefan aggressively pressed the button, and we waited until the doors slid open.
We stepped inside.After we turned around, I caught Stefan's eyes in the mirrored doors as they slowly closed.
He was not a happy camper—to say the least.
I didn't cower at his intimidation tactics.
Nope.
Instead, I stared right back.
The elevator doors opened, and we stepped out.Then we walked down to the end of the hallway.He touched the card to the lock until it clicked open.
He let go of my hand and touched my lower back.“In,” he ordered, lightly pushing until we were both inside.
The room was fancy.It actually wasn't a room at all.It was a suite.A large living room area on one end with a kitchen and bar at the other end.A set of French doors probably opened up to the bedroom.
Which I assumed was where he was taking me.
Stefan walked to the bar and made himself a drink.He tossed it back and then made another.He didn't ask me if I wanted anything.Which—I didn't.
All I wanted was to get out of here and go back home.
“What are we doing here?”I finally asked while I watched him sip his drink.
Stefan tossed the last of the amber liquid back and set the glass on the counter.
“What we're doing here, Francesca.”He began undoing the buttons on his shirt.
Holy.
Crap.
“Is teaching you the proper way to accept a gift from me.”He had his shirt fully unbuttoned.“Because,” he walked toward the living room, “whining and complaining every time I give you something will no longer be tolerated.Do you understand?”he asked as he stopped in front of one of the couches and sat down.
“No,” I said confidently.Because I really didn't.And also, because I knew I was already in trouble, and there was obviously no way out.
“See?It's that attitude of yours, Francesca.That smart fucking mouth.That is why you get yourself into these situations.”He crooked his index finger.“Come here.”
I sighed quietly and slowly walked over to where he sat.
“Very good.See?You can listen when you want to.Now, lie across my lap.”
Okay, what did he just say?
“Now, Francesca,” he demanded, patting his leg.
“Are you serious?”
He let out a sharp laugh.“Oh, I'm fucking serious all right.”And then he grabbed my hand and pulled me forward, over his lap.
