“I know that.” I look away from Aaron’s piercing green gaze.
“She isn’t grateful that you kidnapped her.”
“I didn’t—”
“You did. And you sound like Stuart. Grayson wanted to come, but I didn’t trust him not to slit your throat, but now I’m wondering if I should let him.”
I wonder about telling his brother what happened with my stepdad, assuring Aaron that I was already under surveillance, that nothing was going to happen to Dani.
But I’m on thin ice already, and I’m not sure Aaron would understand.
I shift on the seat. My older half brother is staring at me. He’s in insurance, and he makes billions knowing when people are lying or trying to get one over on him.
“Why are you still making her live with you?”
“I don’t! I’m not! Are you spying on me?”
“Grayson’s had your concierge on payroll for years.”
“God—” I blow out an angry breath. “I don’t want her in my penthouse, okay?”
“Could have fooled me, Ted Bundy.”
“Fuck you. I tried to get her to leave—she keeps showing up. She’s like a stray cat. She’s disturbed. She’s got serious stalker vibes.”
I look around the restaurant. “Are we ordering food?” I ask irritably.
Aaron reaches for the menu. “I thought they had more on their menu here—did they change it? We should have gone to Camelli’s.”
“No.”
“I thought you liked pasta.” Aaron peers where I’m looking.
There’s Dani at a table by the window. She makes a face and gives me a wave.
“You see?” I hiss to Aaron. “She’s stalking me. She’s obsessed with me.”
“It doesn’t look that way to me.” Aaron hums. “Considering she’s got her new boy toy’s hand practically down her shirt. Guess her Stockholm syndrome ran its course.”
“Who the fuck is that?”
“Graham…”
I ignore Aaron and stalk through the crowded restaurant, grab the chair of the greasy, aging hipster next to her, and shake him out of it.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Dani’s eyes go big and round. “You’re not—I didn’t want you to be here.”
“Why, so you can let some other guy suck on your tits? I know you’re sex-obsessed.”
“Why are you acting like this?” she demands.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were going on a date?” I counter.
“Because I was trying to spare you. So just take the win and go back to your boys’ night.”
I lean down to her ear, my voice low. “You wanted a date. You’ve got one.”
