My eyes widen. Three burgers? The prices flash through my mind. That’s at least forty dollars right there, not counting the sides.
“And for you, dear?” She turns to me.
“Nothing for me, thanks.”
Grayson’s eyes crinkle around the corners as he smirks. “She’ll have your most expensive item on the menu.”
The blood drains from my face. “No, I won’t. I’ll have the chicken pot pie.”
“Add an apple pie to that,” Grayson says smoothly. “And a strawberry milkshake.”
She scribbles it all down, oblivious to the murder I’m contemplating across the table. “Coming right up!”
The moment she’s gone, I lean forward. “Are you mocking me?”
“What?” He looks genuinely confused.
“I told you I have very little money.” My hands clench into fists on the table. “And you just ordered half the menu.”
“I’m hungry.” He shrugs like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “And you need to eat. When’s the last time you had a real meal?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Everything about you seems to be none of my business.” He sighs, leaning back in the booth and studying me. “So let’s start with something simple. What did those men want from you?”
My brows snap together. “I told you it’s none of your business. Is that why you wanted to have dinner? To grill me some more?”
“Yes,” he says easily. “Miranda.” The way he says my name has my lower belly tightening. “How much money do you owe them?”
I stiffen. He knows. Of course he does.
I look away. “None of your business.”
I start to slide out of the booth, but his hand shoots across the table, wrapping around my wrist. His touch is firm and deliberate.
“Let go.”
“Sit down.” His voice is quiet but firm.
“I said let go.”
“And I said sit down.” His amber eyes meet mine, unyielding. “You want me to get your car looked at by a mechanic? You actually have to sit through this entire meal with me. That was the deal.”
I want to throw my water in his face. I want to storm out, but I can’t afford that. The smug bastard knows it too.
I sink back into the seat, crossing my arms over my chest. “I regret accepting your offer.”
“Noted.” He releases my wrist, and I immediately tuck my hands under the table, trying to ignore the lingering heat of his touch. “Now answer the question. How much debt are you under?”
I stare at the polished surface of the table, at the neon lights reflecting there. “Around eight hundred thousand dollars. After interest.”
The silence that follows is deafening.
When I finally look up, Grayson’s expression is curious. “Do you gamble?”
White-hot anger flares through me. “No!”
“Then how—”
