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“I’m not going anywhere as your date,” I said.
He pushed his hands in his pockets and raked me over with that gaze again. “Yes. You are.”
There it was, that edge to his voice. The one that made me remember who he was and all the power he had behind him. My throat tightened. I looked around, trying to decide how I wanted to handle this situation.
I needed to play to his weakest point.
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll go.”
“Good girl.”
I felt my jaw drop and our eyes locked. His face didn’t change, it just stayed so casually self-assured that it made me itch with irritation.
“What?” I managed.
“I’m calling it as it is,” he said, his voice dropping to his chest, as soft and seductive as black silk. “You’re being a good girl. I wish you’d do it more often.”
I’d reached the limit on my patience and I was going to be the bigger person. Shaking my head and eliciting a quiet laugh from him, I dipped past him and began taking panties off the shelves and dropping them into my basket. He retreated to the waiting area where there was a cream couch and a coffee machine and sank down.
There was something about his lean body, relaxed like a big cat with his ankle crossed over his knee, that was driving me crazy. He was just flipping through his phone, while I spent his money on lingerie.
It was doing something to me that I wasn’t sure I liked despite how good it felt between my legs.
I tried the bras on and found one that was simple, but had to be contented with the rest being a little impractical. There was a part of me that enjoyed the silk and lace, that liked the expensive feel between my fingers, even while my brain told me they were ridiculous for everyday wear.
He hadn’t given me his card and it wasn’t at the register when I went up to pay. I turned around and he was on his phone, speaking French.
“Sorry,” I told the salesperson. “Just one moment.”
Tentatively, I crossed to him and waited, my hands twisted together. He glanced up.
“I have to pay,” I whispered.
He kept talking, but his hand slipped into his pocket and he took out his wallet, flipped through it idly. He had two silver cards and a black one, which he removed and held out between his two fingers. I took it, feeling like a child, and went back up to the desk.
When I glanced back, he was still on the phone, but there was a flush at the base of his neck.
I whipped back around. Did it turn him on to pay for my things? If so, that was not a game I wanted to play with him.
We stepped back out onto the street and I took a beat, fanning my face. The sun beat down and my shirt stuck to my back. He put his phone away and turned to me, opening his wallet again and taking out cash.
“Go get yourself a sandwich or whatever you want for lunch,” he said. “I’m leaving my bodyguard with you again. I’ll be back in thirty minutes.”
He didn’t ask, he just handed me money and then he was off, striding down the street on those long legs. Looking every bit like the kind of man I would have salivated over before now.
I scowled all the way to the sandwich shop.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
DURAN
She wasn’t a spy. I got off the phone with Cosimo, a made man I worked closely with, and he’d run her background check and followed up with anyone who could vouch for her. As far as anyone could tell, she’d just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
I mulled over my situation on the way home. We didn’t speak. She sat on the deck of the boat with her bags in a heap at her feet. Arms crossed and eyes fixed on the horizon.
Back on the island, I carried her bags to her bedroom door. She stood back and watched me put them down by the bed, her brows arced. I straightened, sharply aware of the last time we’d been in a bedroom alone together. My mind drifted. The image of her naked, blushing, and coming hard on my mouth flashed through my brain.
No, now was not the time. I pivoted and crossed the room to put some space between us.
