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“Because it’s on you if the drink which you desire turns cold.” I’ve never seen someone open a door so fast. A second later, she was tapping her small foot and holding a hand out with an expectant face. “Good morning, Miss Rubens. Ready to try this again?”
“My coffee, please.”
“So polite.” There’s a flash of annoyance in her eyes, but that’s dashed the second I hand over her cup and the bag of baked goods. Then, she’s all smiles and stepping aside so I can enter while she swallows half the contents in the cup in one go. “I’ll close the door.”
“Sure,” she says, but her attention is on the bag as she pulls out an orange and cranberry scone. For a few minutes, Aliana just looks at it before lifting her eyes to mine. “How did you know?”
“I have my ways.”
“You were serious, weren’t you? You’ve been watching me?”
“Yes, on both accounts.” Closing the distance between us, I step beside her at the breakfast bar. “So eat, take a shower, and dress however you see fit. I’m taking you out, and there’s no getting out of it.”
“Who says?” The question loses all merit when a small smile curls at the edge of her lips.
“Me.”
“Me who?”
“The man your mother warned you to avoid at all costs.”
“We’re here,” I say, turning off the ignition after parking in the designated spot. It’s an undisclosed building about a fifty-minute drive from Aliana’s home; it’s all red brick with one large glass door and the letter R above it in bright white neon. There’s no one outside and only a car at the furthest end occupies the lot, but I send a quick text ahead of exiting. “Ready?”
“Is this where you kill people?” she asks as soon as I open her door, extending a hand for her to take. Christ. This woman amuses me. Aliana undoes her seatbelt and grabs my hand, letting me tug her out while looking around and seeing how isolated we are. The area we’re in is affluent, private, and holds a business or two with a morally grey clientele. This building in particular is owned by a chef and is a private test kitchen, and he’s been gracious enough to host us for a minimal fee. “Because if that’s the case, I’m out. I’ve watched way too many CSI shows and know that buildings like this, isolated and empty, scream danger.”
And yet, she walks beside me. There’s a bit of trust there.
“First rule…” throwing an arm over her shoulders, I tug her with me to the boot of the car “… never believe your kidnapper or the person assaulting you. They’d never tell you the truth.”
Not that I’m going to let anyone get close enough.
I’m going to enjoy dismembering anyone who touches a hair on her head.
My eyes go to the side of her neck on the left where a finger-sized bruise sits just below her ear, and I breathe in deeply and fight to find my calm and not demand answers—a name to engrave on the bullet they’ll meet soon enough. I will find out. They will pay in blood.
But I don’t voice my vow, dry swallowing the building ire at its sight. This is our first date, and I won’t ruin it.
Then, there are her words about being free and having a choice. Her appreciation of me considering her wants or needs.
All this is starting to paint a picture full of utter shit I don’t like, one I need to verify before I make her bury someone she cares for by mistake.
“So what do you suggest, then?”
“I’m going to give you one of my guns and teach you how to shoot. I never want you to be defenseless.”
“Really?” The excitement in her voice is endearing. “I’ve always wanted to learn, but my father’s a bit chauvinistic in that regard.”
“I’m not him.” Unlocking the trunk, I grab a zip-up hoodie and close it.
“I see that.” Aliana clears her throat, looking down at my hand holding the sweatshirt. “Are you cold?”
“No, love.” Bringing my lips to just below her ear, I kiss the fragrant skin there, exhaling roughly when she rewards me with a sweet sigh. “This is just in case you get cold in there. We’ll be here a while, and I want you to be comfortable.”
“What is in there?”
“Our first date.” Goose bumps rise, a shiver of sensitivity across her processors when I nip her neck. I pull Aliana closer, walk toward the entrance with her body nestled against mine.
There’s a man standing there now; he’s in a chef’s jacket and greeting us with a polite smile. “Welcome to Casa de Reyes, Mr. Jameson. We’re delighted to have you both with us today.”
