Page 6 of Blackmailing the Bad Girl

He sighed, pressed a finger between his eyes. “Get in the car, Summer. Please.”

“Where are we going?”

“Get in the car and I’ll tell you.”

“You’re not handing me over to the police?”

He didn’t say anything, just gestured to the car.

“Because if you are…” She bit her lip.

“What?”

“Just give me one night. I won’t run, honest. But I can’t go back, not without just one night outside. On my own. I’ll go crazy.”

And suddenly he felt like a complete bastard. How did she do that to him?

“Please,” she muttered.

“I’m not taking you to the police.”

She gritted her teeth. “And you couldn’t tell me that before I went into the begging routine?”

“Maybe I just find it useful to know how desperate you are.”

She glared but then whirled around and slid into the backseat of the car, scooting as far as she could to the other side and staring fixedly out of the window, her plastic bag gripped tight on her knees, her knuckles showing white.

He got in beside her, and a second later, the car pulled into traffic. Nik pressed a button, closing the screen between them and the driver, then rested his head back against the seat. It would take them thirty minutes to get to the office at this time of day. He could give her a few minutes to reconcile herself to what was happening.

Slowly the tension went out from her and she slumped a little. Her fingers loosened on the bag and she shifted on the seat. He had an almost overriding urge to hug her and tell her everything was going to be all right. What was it about this woman that raised every protective instinct he’d never even known he had?

And it wasn’t sexual. Ha, and if he believed that, he was deluding himself. His body had been aware of her from the moment she’d stepped through that prison gate. And this close, her warm scent filled his nostrils, just pure, clean woman. It tightened the muscles low down in his body. She was worrying at her lower lip, and that dragged his mind straight back to their kiss. The taste of her, so sweet. He wanted to taste the rest of her.

Shit, he had to stop thinking like this. Right now, she clearly hated him, which was, again, odd. Wasn’t he supposed to hate her? She’d led him on and then stolen from him.

He sat up, pressed another button, and a door slid open on a drinks cabinet. He poured her a glass of white wine—her favorite, if he remembered rightly from their evening conversations, and held it out to her. She stared at it as though it might bite, then looked around the car, her upper lip curling. “The trappings of wealth,” she muttered. Still, she took the glass.

“I would think you were pretty fond of the trappings of wealth yourself, considering the money you’ve stolen and, according to you, already spent.” He still wasn’t sure if that was true, though Harry hadn’t been able to dig up any accounts.

He poured himself a scotch and turned slightly in his seat so he could watch her. She took a small sip. Then a bigger one. Finally, she swallowed the contents of the glass in one gulp, then held the empty glass out to him.

Getting her drunk hadn’t been part of his plans, but perhaps it would loosen her up and he might learn something. He poured her another and handed it to her. She was staring out the window, her eyes glued to the scene outside.

After a few minutes, she turned to him, heaving a huge sigh. “What do you want? And don’t just tell me your money back, because I know, for people like you, that amount of money means nothing.”

“People likeme?” Why didn’t he like that? He was unique. There were no people like him.

“Rich people. People born to money, who’ve never known anything else.” She twisted on her seat, bending one leg under her, and looking at him over the rim of her glass. “I bet you don’t even know how much money you’ve got. This car, the driver, probably costs enough to keep a family in comfort for a year and you just take it for granted.”

She was right. But he’d come to terms with his wealth a long time ago. He enjoyed it. But at the same time, he gave money to charities and he paid his employees decent wages, always making sure they came first in any business decisions he made.

“Are you a communist, Summer?” She clearly had issues.

“No.” Then she shrugged. “So, what happens next? What do you think you know?”

He pulled the file from the seat across from him and handed it to her. Shock darkened her eyes as she flicked it open to the mug shot of her. “Ugh.”

She turned it over and read the report

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