“No? Prefer your supercars?” I reply.
She pulls as face. “I don’t like cars, at least, not driving them.”
My mind flickers to that incident, to her apparently being intoxicated and crashing a brand new Ferrari. Of course, we know it was a set up but the rest of Verona doesn’t.
“Why don’t you like driving?” I ask.
Her eyes meet mine. I see the twinkle in them as she bites her lip. “You’ll mock me if I tell you.”
“No, I won’t.”
“Promise?”
“I promise, Sofia.”
She stares at me, blinks, then shakes her head like she knows she’s going to regret this. “Why would I when I’ve always had people to drive me around? It always seemed like a waste of my time to get behind the wheel.”
I laugh before I can stop myself. “What a pampered little princess you are?” I tease.
She pouts, raising her hand and smacks me across my chest, not hard, teasingly. “You said you wouldn’t laugh.”
“I said I wouldn’t mock you.” I correct her.
“You promised, and now you’ve broken that promise.”
“Forgive me, princess.” I say, and she huffs more, folding her arms, but I can see from the expression on her face she’s not really mad.
“You broke your word. Now you owe me.” She states.
“Owe you what?” I ask.
“A favour. No questions asked.”
My eyebrow raises. “What are you thinking, Sofia?”
“Nothing to concern yourself with yet.” She steps away, and Christ, that haughty tone, one day soon I will beat her arse for it.
“No? It sounds like you want me to sellmysoul now.” I reply, ignoring the way my cock stirs.
“Does Koen Diaz even have a soul?” She murmurs glancing over her shoulder back at me.
I grab her, my hands wrapping around her throat and pull her close enough that our bodies connect. “I have a soul.” I growl. Right now it’s the only thing stopping me from taking what I want and damning the consequences.
She shivers in my arms but I can’t tell if it’s from fear or something else. Her pupils are dilated, her pulse is racing but both of those could be indicators of panicorarousal, and I’m so damn tempted to rip the bandage off and find out.
But I don’t. To do that would ruin everything I’ve done to date. To do that would make her think that all I’m after is her cunt. When in reality, I want it all, everything. Every breath she takes, every glance, every second of her life. I want it all. And I will damn well have it.
I’m not a patient man. I never have been. But thisisworking. I’m luring her in, like some monster whispering to an angel, slowly seducing her, until she’s falling right over the edge and toppling into my unbreakable trap.
I let her go, step back, giving her space.
“I didn’t mean to offend…” She begins.
“You didn’t.” I reply before my mind fixes on something. If she doesn’t like driving, that means she won’t be very good at it. It’s another weak point. Another vulnerability.
When I state that fact, she huffs.
“If you needed to escape, if someone was tailing you then it would be prudent for you to get better.”