Me: Yeah, my investors thought it was really funny too.
Jace: Oh my God, they saw this? Please tell me you got a video of their reaction.
Me: I’m going to strangle her when I get home.
Ryker: With what? Your sparkly pink steering wheel cover? *laughing emoji*
Jace: Ten bucks says he secretly loves it.
Me: I hate all of you. And her. Especially her.
Ryker: Sure you do, Pink Panther. Sure you do.
26
WILL HE MARRY, KISS, OR KILL ME? I’M LEANING TOWARD OPTION 3. #ENGAGEMENTTHREAT
DAKOTA
When the familiar hum of the elevator sounded, letting me know that Axel was almost home, close enough to the penthouse floor that I could hear his impending arrival, my heart fluttered wildly in my chest. I could only imagine the wrath I would face with him after what I had done with the kitty mobile.
But, my God, seeing the hot, sexy-AF businessman in a custom-tailored suit, driving out of the garage in that hot-pink (did I mention it had sparkles?) kitty-cat mobile? Priceless. Worth every ounce of whatever I was about to face.
The question was, what version of Axel was I going to get? The silent treatment? Or total volcanic explosion?
Please be volcanic. Please be volcanic.
Not that I’d planned this prank to get my hormones all twisted up. My traitorous body just had a thing for Axel’s controlled fury. The way his jaw ticced, how his voice dropped to that sultry octave that made my knees forget how to function properly.
File that under Deeply Unhealthy Thoughts, Dakota.
Dear Diary,
You know how Mathew is everything that I thought I ever wanted in a man? Safe, predictable?
Vanilla,some part of my mind shouted.
Well, apparently, there’s some dark corner of my psyche that craves watching Axel lose his composure. That gets off on poking the beast until?—
The elevator doors slid open.
Holy hell.
His eyes locked on to mine with the intensity of a lightning strike. Furious didn’t begin to cover it. This was molten rage, wrapped in a custom-tailored suit, and, God help me, it was gorgeous.
“You’re dead, Sunshine.”
I painted a fresh streak on my toenail of a defiant shade of crimson red, going for the picture of innocence. “Rough day at the office, honey?”
He stalked over, snatched the nail polish bottle from my grip, screwed the cap on, and slammed it onto the coffee table. The sudden contact when his fingers brushed mine sent electricity shooting up my arm. Especially when he loomed over me, all brooding alpha energy and expensive cologne.
Focus, Dakota. Do not think about how good he smells.
“Do you have any idea what I just went through?”
“A scenic drive through the city?”
“You think you’re funny.”
