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A light crimson flushes her cheeks, but now I’m the one seeing red. The urge to rip that phone from his hands and smash it into a million pieces is overwhelming. I swallow hard, reining in the ravenous demon.
She starts to walk down the pathway without so much as a goodbye. I move into step beside her, and she quickens her pace.
“Why are you running, little fox?”
“I’m not… And don’t call me that.”
I lengthen my stride to keep up with her. I’m nearly a foot taller than her, and still, I’m nearly at a jog. She is most definitely running away from me. “Do I frighten you?”
“Um, geez, I don’t know… you kidnapped me and my friend and held us at gunpoint just a few months ago. Why would I ever be scared of you?” She keeps her gaze fixed straight ahead and jabs a chipped fingernail at the crosswalk button.
“I’ve already apologized for that.”
“Somehow that’s the sort of thing that sticks with you, Mr. Rossi. Despite apologies.”
The light turns green, and she steps onto the crosswalk without looking, presumably in such a hurry to escape my company. A bike whizzes by, blasting a bell, and I just get my hand around her arm and jerk her back onto the sidewalk before the bike runs her over.
She lets out a gasp, her palm flying to her chest and drops the plastic container. The lid pops off and a mess of lettuce, tomatoes, and a myriad of other vegetables splatter across the asphalt. “Slow down, you butthole!” she shouts once she’s steadied herself against the metal crosswalk pole.
I don’t think I’ve ever heard an adult use that turn of phrase. It brings an unexpected twist to my lips. My hand is still wrapped around her upper arm, and she’s clearly still too flustered about her salad to notice.
“Unbelievable.” She bends down, jerking free of my grasp and tries to collect the sad remnants of her lunch.
“What are you doing?” I watch her incredulously as she picks up the dirt covered tomatoes and places them back in the plastic container.
“I can’t just leave them on the sidewalk. The pigeons will try to eat them, and they could choke.”
I don’t think a single inhabitant in the city would miss those rats with wings. “I think they’ll be just fine.” I reach for her again and try to force her up, but she glares up at me, those deep green eyes ablaze.
Fuck, that look. It goes straight to my dick.
“No one asked you to wait.” She continues her painstaking task until every leaf of lettuce and pulverized vegetable is back in the plastic bowl.
I eye her completely mesmerized. After months of watching her, I still don’t understand this woman. How this sweet, innocent, rather bumbling female could have been married to a psychopath like Jasper Whitaker is beyond me. She must have a dark side, one I am desperate to find and let loose. And if she doesn’t, even better. There is nothing I want more than to corrupt her, defile that purity and drag her into the dark depths of my world.
A deep grumble turns my attention to a now standing Maisy. She stomps across the street, and I barely race behind her in time before the light turns red again.
We’re only a few steps from the Plaza now, and I’ll miss my chance if I don’t make my move. “Have dinner with me tonight.”
She spins around, her eyes impossibly wide. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
A nervous laugh titters out. “I can’t…”
“Why? Because of that Jack Dawson asshole?”
Her brows slam together as she regards me. “No, because you kidnapped me, and to be perfectly honest you scare the bejesus out of me.”
I barely suppress the chuckle that time.
“Now, please, leave me alone. I have to get back to work.” She spins away, but my hand catches her wrist before she makes it to the first step.
“Do not go out with that Jack guy.”
“Right, whatever,” she mumbles over her shoulder.
“I’m serious, little fox. I don’t like it when others try to play with my plaything.”
