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How can he even pick up on that? I scrunch my nose up at his words.
“I’m right.” His grin is smug.
“You should leave now.”
“We have a date.”
“It’s not Sunday,” I remind him.
Jake checks his TAG Heuer watch, and I give him another eye roll.
“It is,” he replies.
Shit.
I do swear.
Just not out loud.
“You know what, I can see that you are all types of fucked-up.” I gape at him and blink a few times. He hands me my food, but he doesn’t leave straight away. “I paid the charity donation from the auction. I’ll be back in a few months to collect on your debt. I expect those dates, Oriana.” He releases my food and turns to walk off. I stand there, baffled.
Did he just?
How rich is he?
I watch him as he leaves, confused by everything that just happened. And wondering why, when I see him get into his car, a small smile touches my lips.
