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“The kind that will get any fucker who looks at you killed.”
My mouth dries immediately at the threat in his words.
He means it.
If he had been a minute late and I ventured inside, he’d have killed every last one of them. He wouldn’t even feel guilty about it. But then again, I don’t think Gray is capable of feeling anything. Aside from his overzealous need to keep me safe, he hasn’t shown that he is equipped to feel much of anything else. It leaves me to question if his protectiveness is solely due to loyalty to my father or something else. Until tonight, we haven’t had much of an opportunity to get to know each other, so there wasn’t any reason for there to be any justifiable feelings between us, but there is something here.
Interest.
Curiosity.
Lust.
Something.
And I’m completely invested in learning what that something is.
“You made your point,” I reply nonchalantly while brazenly rolling my body against his. “But I’m still hungry. In fact, I’m famished. And if I can’t go in there, then I guess you’ll just have to take me someplace else. Maybe your place?”
My insinuation couldn’t be any clearer if I slapped him with it, but Gray doesn’t bite the line I’m feeding him.
Instead, he drops his hands, my body instantly screaming in protest, and takes a full step away from me.
“If you want to eat then I know just the place. Get into your car and follow me,” he orders.
My shoulders slump in defeat, but I follow his orders.
I guess I should look on the bright side.
He came for me, so that must mean something.
Right?
With that positive thought doing backflips in my head, I skip over to my car and wait for him to get into his. When he flashes his lights, I turn on the engine and follow him out of the bar’s parking lot.
I guess itwaspretty reckless of me to come here alone so late at night, but I was desperate. If I had gone anywhere else where Gray thought I could handle myself, he would have left me to my own devices—or at least I think he would. I wonder if he’d have come for me no matter where I ended up tonight. I mean, he did stalk me back at school.
I pin that theory to test out another day and focus on driving so I don’t lose him. Unsurprisingly, he drives us as far away from Hell’s Kitchen as possible. Although when we enter the Upper East side, I scoff at how little this man really knows about me. The Upper East side was never my scene. It’s too fake for me. Too rich and shallow. When I think of this side of the city, the first thing that comes to mind are those Wall Street types who think they rule the world while they are, in fact, slowly killing it, and don’t even get me started on the Botox socialites they love to have hanging on their arms, hoping some paparazzi will take a picture to post on page six.
The only Manhattan girl I can stand to be around for more than a minute is my best friend, Cara. She was the first girl I met at St. Augustine, and we have been stuck together at the hip ever since. It’s a good thing, too, since my girl has no street smarts or survival skills to speak of. If I hadn’t been there to look after her, most of the stuck-up hyenas at that school would have made a meal out of Cara. She might look like she just stepped straight out of a fairy tale, born and bred to act like a goddamn princess with a capital P, but in all the ten years I’ve known her, no Prince Charming ever came knocking at her door to keep the dragons at bay. All the other girls were passing out their hoochies like they were punching cards at Seven Eleven, while Cara kept hers under lock and key, making her a pariah at our school.
Not that she cared much.
With her nose always inside a book, my best friend always gives me the impression that she’s perfectly content living solely in her imagination rather than venturing out into the real world and experiencing such things.
I guess she’s right on her reasoning.
The male leads in the books she reads are always so gallant and noble. Even the villains, at times, are swoon worthy enough to make you want to root for them.
Out here in the real world though?
Not so much.
I’ve seen men at their worst, and speaking from personal experience, villains always deserve what’s coming to them. If I had it my way, Cara would never be put in a position where she would have to face such men. Not on my watch.
Hmm.
Maybe I’m more like my father than I thought.
