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CHAPTER SEVEN
CARMEN
Ilook down at my phone and see it’s creeping up on 1:00 a.m. before I slide it back into my purse. For hours I’ve done nothing but sit and talk to Bernard about life, but the multiple glasses of Prosecco are going to my head, and I’m getting sleepy.
As a beat of silence surrounds us, I take it as the perfect opportunity to end the night. “Well, B, I’ve had a lovely time, but it’s late and I need to get home.”
He nods and stands from the table as I do the same. I wobble slightly but quickly correct myself. He rounds it to my side, then places his hand on my waist and pulls me into him. “I enjoyed getting to know you, but I never got your name,” he whispers into my ear.
I debate on if I should give him a fake name, but he already knows my life story—at least the basic shit—so I feel it would be pointless. “Carmen.”
He presses a soft kiss into my hair as he slides some cash into my hand. “Good night, Carmen. Drive safe.”
I melt in his touch for a moment and nod. “Until next time.” He returns my nod as I pull away.
I’m slightly disappointed my time with him didn’t result in anything other than talking, because I hate fucking talking, but it’s easy money. Money I have no intentions of turning down.
I turn and leave the same way I came, only this time, fewer bodies linger around the lobby. It makes me feel better because with the amount of alcohol in my system, I don’t think I could be as careful as before. I exit, pass the valet stand, then cross the parking lot.
When I make it to my car, I pull my keys out to unlock the door. When I retrieve them, I see my phone light up, but I ignore it until I slide inside. When I’m behind the wheel, I start it, then tug my phone out. As soon as it unlocks, I see it’s a message from Stallion. My stomach immediately flutters.
Stallion – Tell me you’re available.
I bite my tongue and debate on an answer. I want to say yes, because, well, good dick. But he waited so damn long to even reply, and I don’t even get a hello, how’s it going, or anything else. It’s frustrating. So, I type out a bitchy reply. I’m pretty sure it’s only because of the Prosecco that I feel the need to do it, but fuck it. If he wants to be a douchebag, I can be a bitch.
Sorry. Busy.
I grin to myself like a child. Short. Simple. Straight to the point. Take that, Stallion.
But my grin quickly falls when my phone starts to ring, and I see his name on the screen. But it isn’t just a phone call, it’s FaceTime. I almost ignore it, but thinking about how long he made me wait, I want him to squirm the way he made me.
I reach into my dress and pull up my boobs, making sure the low dip is showing my cleavage perfectly, then throw my hair around my neck. I hit Answer. “Can I help you?” It comes out a bit breathy, and I hate how that makes me sound. But his pretty, amber eyes and the peeks I’m getting of his bare chest are so fucking distracting.
He narrows his eyes. “Are you drunk?”
“No.”
He shakes his head like he’s… angry. “Where are you?” He moves around wherever he’s at and starts to put a shirt on.
“You sure ask a lot of questions, Stallion.”
“Yeah? Well, you’re clearly drunk and in a car. Forgive me for not wanting to see you dead on the road somewhere.”
I splay my hand across my chest. “Do you care about me, Stallion? A crazy thought considering you almost killed me yourself.”
Hoping to get some sort of reaction out of him, one that makes his cock hard and not one where he’s all snappy, I flip my hair behind my shoulders and tip my chin up, giving him the perfect view of what he did to me.
His eyes stay locked on me, never wavering. “Where are you.”
I suck in a deep breath and throw my head back into the headrest. “The Annalee.”
“Don’t go anywhere, understand?” I roll my eyes and hang up.
I thought I could get him worked up, make him want me as badly as I’m wanting him, but instead, I’ve seemed to piss him off. And considering I know his strength, that’s not something I want to stick around and see the other side of. The side that isn’t kinky and mind-blowing.
I throw my phone into the passenger seat, then adjust in my seat and strap my seat belt around me. I’m about to put my Bentley in drive, but I don’t get the chance. My door flies open, and a strong hand pulls me on my bicep. He reaches around and unhooks my seat belt, then pulls me out of the car fully.
I’m ready to start kicking and screaming, but when I turn and see those panty-melting amber eyes, the scream dies in my throat. I jerk away from him and steady myself against the car. “H—how did you get here so quickly?”
