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Kiera wanted to push him and argue back, but she recalled the presence of her two roommates sitting on the ground behind her, and she didn’t want them to hear the interaction—not wheneverything she’d said moments ago would be invalidated if they heard her. She had no definitive proof, but Kiera didn’t doubt that Vincent was part of the mafia—the same organization she’d just told Talia to avoid at all costs.
Beyond that, Vincent was older than her.Mucholder. She couldn’t begin to imagine the implications of that.
Why, knowing that information, was she still so intrigued by the middle-aged man who stood tall and firm in her doorway, demanding a dinner date with her?
“And what if I say no?” she asked, unable to help herself.
A wicked smile tugged at his lips, but no humor rested in his eyes. The smile held all the wickedness she’d gleamed from him the following night in the restaurant. Even if she were blind, she’d understand the message. The promise. Hewouldpick her up for a date. No was not an acceptable answer to his demand.
“I’ll see you tomorrow night,” he said, turning and leaving her standing in her open doorway alone, clutching the package to her chest and gaping.
Kiera stepped back on shaking legs and closed the door, examining the meticulous packaging of the box.
“No way,” Jacey cooed. “You have a sugar daddy? Since when?”
Kiera gaped.
Blinked.
“I donothave a sugar daddy,” Kiera shouted, slamming the package on the countertop.
“Men aren’t worth it,” Talia mocked, repeating Kiera’s earlier words.
Jacey attempted to reply. “He’s definitely a sugar…”
“I swear to all things holy. If you say that I have a sugar daddy one more time,” Kiera threatened, struggling to think of an adequate punishment. “I’ll replace your oat milk with cow milk for a month.”
Jacey gasped. “Too far, Kiera.”
She scowled at Jacey, grabbed her package, and rushed to her room, slamming the door behind her. Her roommates chuckled in the living room, no doubt talking about her. She chucked the package into the corner of her room and threw herself onto the bed. Vincent was not a sugar daddy. She didn’t need one, nor did she want one.
So what was he?
4
Vincent stood outside Kiera’s apartment in his usual dress pants and a button-down shirt. Nobody bothered to respond to his first knock, so he lifted his fist again and pounded it into the door with more force before stepping back a step.
He knew he had the right address. If not from the records he’d taken from Marco, he knew from Kiera’s greeting the night before. That spark of defiance that had drawn him to her had certainly manifested in their encounter the night before. The idea that Kiera would try to battle him for dominance fascinated him. But as the door opened, his lips tightened.
He immediately reevaluated the fascination he’d had with her defiance.
She didn’t wear the dress he’d brought her the night before.
Not even close.
Rather than the flowing red dress he’d purchased, she wore a knee-length white dress, and she smiled up at him with all the defiance of a wild animal, daring him to say something about the blatant disregard for orders.
“Where is the dress I bought you?” he asked, his voice coming across cooler than even he intended.
“White suits me better than red,” she said, sealing the door behind her and sliding past him.
He could have fought with her, but the sentiment of being challenged thrilled him in a way that no woman ever had. He watched as she strode down the hallways with a grace that contrasted her sharp tongue and antics. The dark hair that flowed down her back in plump curls would have looked stunning with the bright red dress he’d bought, but the white certainly sent a message.
He followed her and anticipated that by the night's end, she would see what it was like to be under his control. For the first time, she would learn to relinquish the tight leash she appeared accustomed to tying around her lovers’ throats. She wouldlikeit.
He followed her down the steps and outside her apartment building, facing the skyscrapers of Philadelphia as he led her toward his sleek black car. She raised a brow at him as he opened her door and helped her inside but said nothing. Sure, the vehicle was showy, but it served a purpose. With bulletproof windows and the ability to reach the highest of speeds, the car was a tool. A practical tool and one that showed his power.
They drove for miles, and he didn’t speak.
