He crosses his arms across his chest. “And why, exactly,isshe the shit?” he asks.
“Because she’s a reflection of who I used to be,” I answer easily. “And I may sound crazy, but I find myself being...I dunno, gravitated towards her every time we’re together. Like calls to like, and all that.”
Solo sighs again. “I get–”
“Dorran?”
Cignette walks over to me, and even though she seems troubled, she gives me a barely-there smile. “I’m sorry for interrupting,” she says to Solo, then looks at me again. “I’m ready to leave when you are.”
I push a few errand strands of her hair behind her ear. “He’s pissed at you, isn’t he?” I ask, but only because I don’t like the idea of her being upset.
She lifts a shoulder. “I wasn’t exactly receptive to his concerns, so he’s got every right to be mad.”
“What reason did you give him anyway?” I question. “I can’t imagine he let you go that easily.”
She swallows. “I told him I was going home with a potential sponsor.”
“The supposed sponsor’s home, you mean?”
She nods. “Yeah.”
“Did he ask for a name?”
Cignette bites the inside of her cheek and shifts on her feet. “I made one up.” When I lift a brow in silent demand, she exhales in exasperation and says, “Ivan Caruso.”
I smirk. “Yikes.”
She rolls her eyes. “Shut your face; it’s the only one that came to mind at the time, okay?”
“And what a name it is,” I say. “Full-on mafia vibes.”
She makes a small sound in the back of her throat, and Solo coughs in the background.
“Be grateful, you stunted dick,” she tells me. “I’m doing this foryou.”
“I know.” I run my eyes over her tensed shoulders, and the sweat on her forehead. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to contradict your intentions.”
“Don’t.” She clicks her tongue and licks her lips. “I just…I didn’t mean to snap. I’m fucking sorry.”
“Hey.” I lift her chin. “You can change your mind,” I tell her honestly. “I can still drop you to the estate.”
She shakes her head, and her posture slackens. “I’m coming with you,” she repeats herself from before. “I just…I need to know you’ll be okay.”
“He’s too stubborn to die on us, don’t worry,” Solo adds, and earns a glare from Cignette in return.
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that, Chris,” she says to him. “For your own safety.”
Solo blinks at her – a little dumbfounded by her threat.
I chuckle, then put the key into my Harley’s ignition before twisting the throttle. “Hop on, Little Swan,” I tell Cignette, “before Maverick tracks your phone and fucks shit up for us.”
She lifts her dress and straddles the Harley. “Well, he can fuckingtry, that stubborn asshole.”
I chuckle again. MyGod, she’s on fire tonight. And it’s hot. All kinds of hot.
“Atta girl,” I praise, then turn the Harley around with a resounding screech before speeding it out ofImperia’sparking lot.
34.
