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I bite my lower lip and nod. “Then when it’s over, I’ll make it up to you.”
“Is that so?”
Adrik’s voice is gravelly. Full of implication.
For a second, I forget there’s anyone else in the room with us.
For a second, I forget we’re pretending.
I press my thighs together at the sudden onrush of heat. “Dealer’s choice,” I whisper. “Anything you want.”
He reaches up to cup my chin. If another man did it, it might be cute. When Adrik does it, it’s an act of pure possession.
“Are you sure this dog is worth it, Emery?”
This is just pretend. It’s a game. An act. None of this is real.
More importantly, it’s for Isabella.
Slowly, I nod. “Yes.”
He bends down so he can whisper in my ear, “Then say it.”
I know what he’s asking for.
And for once, I’m going to give him exactly what he wants.
I lean back and smile up at him, trying to ignore how bad I’m shaking from head to toe. “Please, Adrik. Please.”
He smiles back. “Good girl.”
* * *
“Thank you for being so understanding, Mr. and Mrs. Tasarov.”
A middle-aged woman named Diane walks us back through the kennels and towards the lobby. The interview went as well as it could have. Adrik mostly brooded and let me do the talking.
But Diane was as pleasant as could be, swore the interview was nothing but a formality, and rubber-stamped all of our documents.
“The pup should be yours in no time,” she promised with a bright smile.
Even Adrik almost grinned at that.
But that grin is long gone now. We’re standing on the edge of the parking lot.
And in the middle is a sea of red and blue police lights, all converging on one thing: Adrik’s car.
