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The ride up to the house was a short one. When they arrived at the front door, there was no sign of her compact.
"Where is my car?" she asked.
"Klaus has parked it in an empty garage bay." The answer did not come from Gregor.
Butterflies waged war in Rowan's tummy like peaceful, innocent butterflies were not supposed to do and Rowan turned her head to see the object of her visit. And quite a few of her recent fantasies.
Lysander Baros. He stood there in a pair of slacks and white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal the tanned skin and defined muscles of his forearms. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, and she could see a hint of his dark chest hair.
Despite the situation she'd found herself in, her body had a predictable response to this man. The same response she'd had to every image she saw of him, or the rare times she saw him at an event in person since her divorce. She wanted him. She'd never wanted Cyrus this way and the fact was that she didn't want any other man like this either.
It was like her body had tuned to Lysander's station and everything else was static.
Nevertheless, the utmost emotion in Rowan at the moment was anger.
Uncertain if she could stand at the minute, she didn't try to get out of her seat in the security vehicle. Instead, she turned her body so he could receive the full weight of her displeasure. "Well, he can just unpark it and bring it back round. I want to go home."
"But you came to see me, yes? And here I am."
"What? Do you want a gold star for participation, or something? First, you have your goon pull a gun on me. Then you hang up on me without saying goodbye. That is rude and I know your mom taught you better. She's a nice lady."
Lysander's eyes widened at Rowan's tone, but he didn't say anything.
So, she continued. "Then you send another goon to steal my car." She ticked each offense with one finger. She had three fingers up so far. "But that wasn't enough? No, you had to have your—"
"Goon," Gregor supplied helpfully, cutting into her words.
She let him have some of her ire filled gaze before turning her attention back to the man who had infuriated her to the point of raising her voice. "Right, your goon—"
"His name is Gregor," Klaus said, coming up, his expression showing all the humor he found in the current situation.
Rowan crossed her arms over her chest and frowned at him this time. "You'll notice I'm not laughing. Your boss had me kidnapped and that is not only illegal, it's—"
"Let me guess, rude?" Gregor asked, his own tone now showing his amusement as well.
"So is interrupting people."
"You'll have to forgive me, I grew up in an orphanage and the streets of Athens. No mother to teach me polite behavior."
"Goodness help you then, because clearly you aren't going to learn it from your boss."
Both the security specialists laughed out loud at that.
Which made Rowan feel just a tiny bit vindicated. They didn't mind seeing the arrogant self-made billionaire taken down a peg. Funny, but before today she'd had no desire to see that herself. Apparently wealthy men forgot what they learned in manners in their pursuit of money.
Maybe she should write an op-ed about that. She wondered if any of the fringe press would publish it.
"You were saying," Lysander prompted when Rowan had been lost in silent thought for several seconds.
"Oh, uh, right. I want to go home."
"You said you had skinned knees and a twisted ankle?" he asked, sounding solicitous, if she could believe that.
She didn't. "Yes, because you have your goons—"
"I prefer security specialist," Klaus said.
Rowan felt like a tea kettle about to go off. She never screamed shrilly, but these men. They thought they were so cute. "Seriously? Act like a security specialist and that's what I'll call you. Act like a goon and that's your title."
