CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Ava
Despite what anyonethinks, I don’twantto die. My nerves have settled, and the fog is clearing in my brain. There’s no benefit to killing Griffin.
Right now.
And he’s right. I don’t trust Ares.
After I’ve put on a comfortable pair of dark jeans, a silk top with a jacket, and fancy flats, Griffin sits next to me in the SUV. We drive for a while, the car zig-zagging down side streets and around double-parked assholes.
The driver slows down, reaching a tree-lined street with handsome luxury townhomes.
“Don’t move,” Griffin whispers all husky in that damn accent.
A shiver goes through me, remembering that the lust in his voice brings out his deepest brogue.
He gets out on his side and comes around to open the door for me. I take his hand and let him help me out. To my surprise, Griffin holds my hand as we walk to the curb. His grip is warm, and it’s the first form of affection I’ve felt in...seven years when I slept withhim.
It weakens me briefly, and I hate these baser needs I can’t control.
“Thank you for the threads. Do you buy all your girlfriends’ clothes at Holden Couture? Or just your captives?”
“Neither.” He glares at me. “I don’t have a girlfriend. Haven’t had one in...a long time.”
He doesn’t look ravenous for sex. A man that good-looking with a great cock isn’t lacking company. My brothers are man whores. I get the type. Here I am, marrying one so they can do business together.
Birds of a feather, but I’m the one covered in pigeon poop!
“And you’re my first captive,” Griffin adds with a smirk.
“An inaugural run. Cool.” I glance back at the bag. “How do you know luxury women’s clothing?”
“My sister is related to the owner of Holden Couture through marriage. I called her and asked for a recommendation.” He has a sister...
Hmmm.