She spins around to face me. “I said I’d have dinner with you. I didn’t say you could stalk me or pick me up like some…”
I don’t let her finish. In one swift motion, I haul her up over my shoulder like a bag of potatoes.
“Let me go, you brute!” she screams while struggling in my grip. “You don’t get to…”
I give her ass a firm slap through the dress, and her struggles stop instantly, and I swear I can feel her holding her breath. Hauling her to the Bentley, I drop her in the front seat, closing the door fast so she can’t escape. When I slide into the driver’s side, she’s already sulking with folded arms.
“Seatbelt. I’m very big on safety,” I say, starting the engine.
She turns to stare out the window with her jaw set in stubborn defiance. But that’s fine. She can pout all she wants because at least she’s not trying to jump out of a moving vehicle.
We drive through the city, and after a few minutes, I look over at her stiff posture in the front seat. “You look beautiful.”
She glances my way without emotion. “You’re hideous.”
I laugh out loud, surprising myself. “I knew you were a liar, but damn, you’re committed to it.”
“Well, deal with it.”
My amusement continues as she starts punching at the stereo controls aggressively. “What do you even have on these radio stations?”
“Find something to listen to,” I tell her, curious what she’ll choose.
She flips through them, but everything comes back to opera and classical. She rolls her eyes and throws herself back against the seat. “At least it won’t be oddly quiet here,” she mutters.
“You’re coming for both my looks and my music choices?”
She scoffs. “I’d rather listen to construction noise.”
“Okay, that was funny,” I snort, keeping my eyes on the road.
This is my usual spot because it’s discreet for work and the menu is solid. Once we’re in our corner booth, her eyes travel over the expensive decor, pressed table coverings, and elaborate flower displays.
She takes her seat and cuts straight to business.
“I know free food isn’t your motivation here, so why invite me to dinner or a date or whatever you’re calling it?”
“What? I can’t wine and dine you?”
“Oh, you can. I would never turn down a free dinner as long as you don’t expect to fuck me afterwards.”
I laugh, leaning back in the booth. “Oh, that was actually the plan. Wine, dine, then fuck.”
“You are a nasty motherfucker. Why would I want to sleep with you in the first place?”
“I don’t have trouble finding willing partners, beautiful.” I wave over our waiter. “Though that’s not actually why we’re sitting here.”
Her eyes narrow. “Then why?”
“I came to tell you to stop snooping around my business. Just because I forgave you two times doesn’t mean that you’ll be safe the third time. Don’t cross boundaries, Zoya. Find something else to do. Stalk some celebrity, write social gossip, start a fashion blog, or whatnot. Stay out of mafia business.”
She opens her mouth, but I keep going.
“I know you have a reputation for getting kidnapped and being let go for free. You don’t pay much for your freedom. They just take your laptop or camera, delete everything, and you’re free. You’re actually lucky they do that. You’re so pretty, they let you go most times.” I lean forward. “But don’t cross the wrong gang. And I am the wrong gang, beautiful. So I would suggest you stop coming to my establishments. Or there will be consequences.”
She remains calm. “Suppose I don’t stop investigating your locations and revealing your operations? What’s your move? Assassination?”
“Absolutely not.” I deny. “Killing someone as attractive as you would be a crime against humanity, but I’ll guarantee your evidence disappears permanently, and if you continue testing my patience, I’ll guarantee you disappear too, alive but lockedsomewhere so long you won’t remember what blue sky looks like.”