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My fingers tightened on the steering wheel with our first turn into the expensive part of the city.
They tightened again when he guided me into the parking garage of one of the sleekest, newest buildings in the area.
And again when he had me park my sensible white SUV between multiple vibrantly-colored luxury cars.
I left the vehicle running for a minute, staring at the wall of the parking garage in front of me.
“Are you going to turn the car off?” Rafael asked me, nudging my arm lightly.
“Haven’t decided,” I said.
He waited another minute.
I didn’t move.
“Tater-tot?”
“So you’re rich?” I finally asked.
“Yup.”
I let out a long breath.
I’d known that. Supernatural beings were immortal, for the most part—they had more time to make money, and magical skills that were more valuable than the rest of ours.
Still, it made me even less certain than I already was.
Rafe leaned over and turned my car off, grabbing the keys and stepping out of the car.
“Damn demon,” I muttered under my breath, carefully opening my own door and sliding out. I maintained a solid six-inch gap between my door and the Lamborghini next to it, not willing to risk getting any closer.
“If you can afford to live here, you can afford to pay for the candy you stole,” I told him, hurrying to catch up.
“Finally recovered from the shock?”
“Shut up.”
His lips curved upward.
We stepped into a fancy elevator, and he typed a code into a keypad. A green light lit up, and it rose smoothly.
“Not going to ask how rich, are you?” he asked me.
“Not interested.”
Iwasinterested.
I wasn’t going to admit it, though.
Rafe eyed me. “We forgot to pack your stuff.”
“I didn’t forget anything. I haven’t agreed to move in with you.”
“Ah.”
“Mmhm.”
“I’ll send my brothers for it,” he said.
