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He folded his arms over his chest, blocked the exit to my room and pinned me with a stare. “Why stay here?”
I spied my phone charger and went for it. He waited as I wrapped the cord into a coil and added it to my purse. I glanced at him and realized this conversation wasn’t going away. “This is my place. I have full control of it. I pay for it. You should understand why that’s important to me.”
“You like the independence.”
“Yes.”
He grimaced, but dropped his arms, moving to my bag and lifting it off the bed. “You deserve better.”
“You’re right.” I wasn’t talking about the room. I was talking about a covert night in San Diego since we couldn’t go out in public here. I was talking about losing my cell phone because the wrong person answered his. I was talking about us, and he headed down the hall with my bag, either missing the inference entirely or ignoring it.
I flipped off the light and, like a good little mistress, followed him.
* * *
“Wow.” I watched as the headlights flashed, the vehicle unlocking. “You shouldn’t have.”
He laughed, opening the back and swinging my bag inside.
“No, really. You shouldn’t have.”
In the middle of my driveway, cozying up next to my car, sat a minivan. A Honda minivan. I walked up to it and glanced in the backseat, half-expecting to see a car seat strapped in. There wasn’t one, and I took a full tour around the van before glancing up at Dario.
“What? I don’t seem like a minivan guy?” He reached forward, pressing a button on the key fob, both side doors engaging and sliding open. I laughed and raised my eyebrows as if impressed.
“I can also close them. Watch.” He pushed another button. A loud beep sounded, the sort typically associated with a delivery truck backing up, and the side doors slid closed. He opened mine with a flourish, and I took a final look around, still expecting to see a limo tucked nearby, or a Range Rover, or his Rolls.
Nothing. This was it. Dario Capece was driving me to San Diego in a… I glanced at the brand emblem before tossing my purse into the floorboard and stepping inside. A Honda Odyssey. I waited until he got in, then pulled my seatbelt across my chest.
“No, you don’t seem like a minivan guy.”
In fact, had odds been put on that fact, I would have bet every dollar in my bank account that Dario Capece would have shown up at my house in something overly extravagant, something designed to impress, something that matched the wealth that dripped off of him. Even now, his jeans shifting against the cloth seat, his hand pulling designer sunglasses into place, he looked expensive.
He tossed the keys into a cupholder, and I noticed the rental tags on the ring.
“You rented this?”
“Yep.” He reached over, grabbing my hand and pressing a kiss on it.
The man had a half dozen cars, easily. No need to rent anything, much less a mommy van with eight cupholders and a stain-proof interior. I took note of my suspicions and fastened my seatbelt as he pulled out of the driveway.
Finding an aux cable, I plugged in my phone, scrolling through Spotify and starting a Clint Black song. He nodded in approval and I pulled off my sandals and propped my feet on the dash.
We turned out of my neighborhood, and the minivan’s engine roared, moving into a higher gear as Dario sped up. I settled deeper into the seat and reached for his hand.
* * *
DARIO
She was driving him crazy. Bare feet up on the dash, soles arched as if they were in the air with him between her thighs.
She didn’t even realize it. She was teasing the fuck out of him and clueless about it. The song changed, a drumbeat starting, and she began to bob her toes to the beat. He forced his eyes to the road and willed his dick to calm down.
It was stupid of him to not fuck her. He was thinking of this as a woman would, thinking that sex would unlock some fountain of emotions between them. The problem was, there were already feelings between them. She was already his first thought when he woke up and his last before sleep. She had already eroded his self-control, his rules, and his boundaries.
And she was already in danger. He’d seen the look that had crossed Robert Hawk’s face when he’d answered that call and heard her voice. Dario had felt the prickle of unease when he’d stepped out of the casino and into his car. He’d noticed, in subtle shifts and quickened speech patterns, the discomfort of his staff. Something was going on, and if anything happened to her, he’d burn the entire city to the ground.
