Page 89 of The Crowned Garza
“You’re not going,” he says, calm as ever.
“You don’t get to tell me where I can and can’t go.”
He continues to ignore me, and when I start shouting and cursing at him, he ups the volume on the stereo to drown me out. I almost laugh. He’s so calm and collected in his dickishness that it’s impossible not to be attracted.God save my wretched soul.
Only when we’re outside my gate does he lower the volume on the stereo. “Done being a brat?”
“What, you think I’m just gonna go inside and be a good little girl?”
“That would be nice, yes.”
“Wrong. I’m gonna book a flight online then have a car service take me to the airport.”
“Sure. But be prepared to spend hours detained in a windowless room,” he says. “When you’re flagged as a security threat in an international airport, the experience is very unpleasant.”
“I want to stab you,” I grit out. “I want tostabyou right in your frickin’ eardrum.”
The sonuvabitch smiles at me. “Want to borrow my knife?”
“Aargh!” I fake claw at his face. The only reason pieces of his flesh aren’t under my nails right now is because my manicure is fresh and pretty, and I don’t want to ruin it.
Saint only smiles wider.
“You know what, I’m not getting out of this car.” I cross my arms. “Since you made it your business to bomb my weekend plans, you’re stuck with me. You’re responsible for my enjoyment.”
“I have shit to do.”
Leaning back, I kick my feet up on the dashboard. “Not my problem.”
His fingers drum against the steering wheel. “Okay, I’ll come by later and cook you dinner.”
Eek! I mock yawn. “Boring.”
“I’ll let you sit on my face after.”
My stomach dips and my breathing falters. “More.”
“I’ll give you whatever you want. Without crossing the line.”
“You’ll spend the night,” I decree.
“Okay.”
“And you’ll cuddle me.”
“Of course.”
His easy compliance rouses my distrust. “If you stand me up like you did last time, I’ll show up at the office tomorrow and tell everyone you fucked my throat and came on my face.”
His chuckle is soundless. “I’m ‘Guy.’ The unassuming good guy. Who would believe you?”
I drop my feet from the dash and get out my phone. Navigate to the photo gallery, enter the password for my locked folder, and pull up the selfie I’d snapped of us in bed the last time we were together. I’d woken up in the middle of the night to pee then sneaked a quiet selfie before he could stir.
“Blackmail material,” I say, showing him the phone screen.
“You do know I can hack and wipe your phone along with your cloud and backups in less than five minutes, right?”
“Yup. Which is precisely why I made hard copies and hid them.”
