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“I’m glad you understand my pain. It will make things easier between us.”
“What will?” she asked, giving him a suspicious look.
“That you understand that you should do everything I tell you.”
This time her gasp was genuine.
“I did not agree to that.”
“Sure, you did. You agreed that people who don’t listen and obey me are philistines, so in order for you not to be a philistine . . .” he trailed off as he used yet another napkin to clean her hands. He could attempt to clean up her feet, but it would take more than a few napkins.
“Oh, you’re good.” She waved a finger at him. Her eyes twinkled with amusement. “Unfortunately for you, I’ve never been good at being obedient.”
He ran a thumb over her chin. “Maybe you just never had the right incentive.”
“Incentive?” she asked, sounding slightly breathless. Her large brown eyes were staring up at him, her lips parted slightly.
Gray liked her like this . . . of course, he’d liked her at the nightclub too. He hadn’t realized she was the same woman when he’d heard her scream. He’d actually thought he’d missed seeing her get a cab and had just decided to turn around to go back to The Edge.
Thank fuck he hadn’t.
Thank fuck he’d heard her scream and entered that alleyway because he didn’t want to think of what might have happened to her if he hadn’t.
“Hmm, don’t you know that good girls get treats. But naughty girls . . .”
“Yes?” she asked. “What do naughty girls get?”
Fuck. What was he doing? He dropped his hand.
“We’re here.” The car had stopped a minute ago, but he knew that Mikhail wouldn’t interrupt them. He knew better than to open Gray’s door. He hated that shit. He didn’t like being driven around like this. He’d prefer to be on his own, to be the one driving, in control.
But when he was representing Markovich, it was all about appearances. He was his second. And he had to show a powerful front.
So when he went to the club on business, he brought a driver. Plus, it had come in handy this time since he’d sent Mikhail to pick up the asshole he’d left zip-tied in the alley, before he’d swung by to get them.
The bastard should be locked up tight in the trunk.
“Oh. Okay. Sure. Umm, well. I guess I’ll just leave. Thank you for the ride home.”
He nodded. Then reaching over, he undid her seatbelt and his.
“Didn’t trust me to do that myself, huh?” she joked.
“No.”
She bit her thumbnail.
“Don’t do that. You’ll hurt yourself. Plus, your hands are probably still dirty.”
“Right. Gross. Yuck. I hope your boss’s car doesn’t still stink once I leave. I could pay for . . .”
“No.”
“Then maybe I could give you money for the ride?”
Oh, she was really pushing him.
“No.” He glared at her.
