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That’s not quite true; I held back—a lot. I didn’t get her any shoes. Dozens of pricy outfits stood out, but I only got her three—and two, I kept for later occasions. I’m highly reasonable where she’s concerned.
“I can take care of myself, Marius. I can dress myself. I can get myself home, too.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “It’s none of your business what I do, what I wear, where I live. Jesus, I should just move out of this fucking state.”
“I mean, you couldtry,” I admit. “But then I’d have to resort to kidnapping, and we’d be right back here—except this time, you’d have far less freedom.”
She stares at me, gaping for a whole minute. At first, I assume she’s accepted the simple reality, but no. She has to make things difficult. “You’re literally insane.”
A smirk stretches at the corner of my mouth. “Insane would be kidnapping youbeforeyou tried to run. I’d know; my brother did that.”
She shakes her head, taking the envelope and putting it down on the dashboard. “I’m leaving the cash.”
I shrug. “I’ll just transfer it back to your account.”
“Like you have my account details,” she shoots back.
I only chuckle, enjoying the way her eyes widen.
“Oh my god! You have my account numbers. Are you actually stalking me?”
“I have a motive,” I reply innocently. “It’s called surveillance. I’m supposed to check if a suspicious lump of cash suddenly ends up in your hands, remember?”
She huffs in distaste. “How the hell did I end up withtwofucking stalkers?”
She’s not nearly as upset as she’s pretending to be, amusingly. Her righteous indignation is all for show.
“Look, I’m grateful you took the time to pick some clothes for me. I hate shopping,” she admits. “But I can’t let you spend a wad of cash on me. We’re practically strangers.”
Hilarious. “I know how you taste. I’ve had my cock deep in your throat. We know each other in a biblical sense, your highness.”
“I don’t recall anything about deep throat from Sunday school.”
“You went to Sunday school?”
She shrugs. “One of my foster homes demanded it. The mom was deeply religious. It was one of the okay ones. She was generous.”
I stay quiet for a moment as I control the wave of rage brought back by the mention of her past. “But you left?” I prompt.
“Yeah, the school I was enrolled in was Mr. Mitchell’s. So I acted up to get sent away. It was the only way I could get away from that monster.”
Prison is too good for that man. I’ll have to get him dealt with in a more permanent way, and soon. Then again, death might be too restful. I should consult Markus on appropriate torture methods.
“I see. You always fought back, in your own way.”
She looks away, though she has nothing to be ashamed of.
“You know you don’t have to fight me, right? I’m team Sarah,” I proclaim.
That earns a contemptuous snort. “You’re team Marius.”
Well, I can’t deny that. “The two aren’t mutually exclusive. There could be a team Marius and Sarah.”
I like the sound of that.
I like it a lot more than I’d admit.
“Right,” she retorts, still derisive.
As silence stretches, it dawns on me that I have absolutely not won this conversation; she’s dropped it like an old sock, but she’s still leaving the cash in the car.
