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“That’s it. You belong to me now,” I mutter as I walk to where my car is parked.
The fact that no one tries to stop me pisses me off even more.
I press the fob, and when the doors unlock, I open the driver’s side and get into the R8. I place the dog on the passenger seat before I shut the door and start the engine.
I keep glancing at my kidnap victim, but she seems happy where she’s looking out the window with her tail wagging.
Angelo forced Vittoria to marry him, and Renzo kidnapped Skylar.
Me? I steal a dog.
I shake my head at myself as a chuckle escapes me.
My thoughts turn to Eden, which makes my smile grow wider.
I have a date with my elusive dancer.
Fuck, I thought I was hallucinating the woman when I saw her walking on the side of the road. I slammed on the brakes so fast I almost gave myself whiplash.
I don’t stop at the ballet company like I was planning on doing and drive in the direction of my apartment.
“I should probably stop for food before we go home,” I mutter.
Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I check for nearby pet shops.
“Found one on Maddison Ave,” I say as I glance at the dog, who’s staring at me with her mouth wide open while she pants.
It looks like she’s smiling at me, and once again, my heart melts into a puddle.
When I stop at the store, I scoop the dog into my arms, and after climbing out of the car, I quickly check whether my new pet is male or female.
“I was right.” I grin at her. “You’re a girl.”
She licks my jaw, and I’m overcome with cuteness aggression, almost squashing the furball too hard to my chest.
Walking into the store, I head to the counter and smile at the attendant. “I just got a dog and need the best of everything.”
The attendant gets to work, and after ten minutes, I worry how I’ll get everything home. The R8 doesn’t have a big trunk, and it’s only a two-seater.
I dig my cell phone out and dial Renzo’s number.
“Hey,” he answers the call.
“I need you to come to a pet shop with an SUV,” I tell him.
“A pet store? Why?”
“I kidnapped a dog and need help getting all her things to my apartment.”
“You kidnapped a dog,” he deadpans. “Are you joking or serious.”
“I’m serious.”
“Oh…okay.”
The call ends, and I quickly send the address before I grin at my fur ball.
What am I going to call her?
