“You willingly came into my car,” I remind again, having just had this same discussion not five minutes ago.
“Is that what you’ll tell the cops when they find my dead body in the dumpster behind the alley?” She glares.
I raise a brow, earning an embarrassed blush from her.
“Sorry. I’ve been watching a lot ofDateline,” she admits. “And I’m tired and hungry, which isn’t a good combination for me. We’ve worked together long enough for you to know that.”
My lips twitch to a smile. “Then I’ll feed you.”
“You’ve been feeding me all week, César. I appreciate it, but you don’t have to continue to do that.” She squirms in her seat, though I’m not sure if it’s from nerves or something else.
“Let me take care of you,” I murmur, turning down my street and easing the car past the wrought iron gates of my neighborhood. The community is exclusive, lined with sprawling estates. Each one is unique in architecture, but all boast the same air of wealth and grandeur. Manicured lawns. Stone facades. Homes that whisper old money and power.
From the corner of my eye, I see Lety relax her shoulders, looking more at ease in my car. “Fine, but can we do Chinese this time? Don’t get me wrong, those street tacos have been delicious, but I’m ready for some shrimp fried rice.”
I would buy her the whole damn restaurant if she wanted it. Except I think that would overwhelm her, and that’s the opposite of what I want to do. So, I nod. “Shrimp fried rice it is. As long as we can get wonton soup with it.”
“That’s a given.”
Her bratty response makes the corner of my mouth quirk up.
I’m keenly aware that I don’t bring women home. Ever. My house is off-limits—a personal sanctuary where the line between business and pleasure stays clear. But Lety…Lety isn’t just anyone.
She’s different.
She’smine—or she will be, if I can manage not to fuck this up. But I’m done being patient. I’m a viper, ready to sink my fangs into her.
I’ve never been the type to settle down. Never saw the appeal. Women have always been a temporary indulgence. Lety, though? She consumes me. Takes up all my waking thoughts. I think about her constantly—her sharp tongue, the way her eyes flash when she’s annoyed, how her voice lowers when she’s tired or vulnerable. She’s in my head when I wake up and when I fall asleep. I catch myself watching her when she isn’t looking, memorizing the curve of her neck, the way her fingers fly over the keyboard when she types. She makes me irrational, possessive.
No woman has ever occupied my thoughts the way she does. No one has ever made me want more. It’s a new sensation, but it feels right. Like I was always meant to find my way to her. Now I just need to convince her of the same.
She’s quiet as I pull into the driveway, and I don’t blame her. The house is a lot. Floor-to-ceiling windows, clean modern lines, wide driveway, and manicured hedges. Lety’s eyes widen as she takes it all in, but she doesn’t say anything. She just tightens her arms over her chest and stares ahead.
“I don’t usually bring people here,” I tell her as I shut off the engine. “You’re the first.” And she will be the last, but telling her that might freak her out. I need my girl to get used to the thought of us. Because “us” is an inevitability.
She arches a brow. “Should I feel honored or concerned?”
“Honored.” I give her a crooked smile. “But if it makes you feel better, I’ll let you keep your phone in case you want to callDatelineto report me yourself.”
It’s meant to be a joke, and luckily it lands. Lety lets out a small, reluctant laugh, but it’s a win. She follows me out of the car and up the steps, her heels clicking lightly on the stone. I unlock the door and push it open, gesturing for her to enter.
The lights come on with a soft hum, casting a warm glow across the open floor plan. My place is clean thanks to the fantastic cleaning service I hired. The room is decorated in tasteful furniture in neutral tones that complement the dark wood floors and abstract art I didn’t choose but paid way too much for. I watch her take it all in, fingers twitching at her sides like she’s resisting the urge to touch something.
“You live here alone?” she murmurs, almost accusatory. Like any minute a wife and a kid I’ve never told her about will walk out and catch us.
“I do.” I set my keys in a glass bowl near the door and turn back to her. I’m not surprised she asks because the house could fit two families comfortably.
She doesn’t say anything as I lead her farther into the house, but I can feel the tension radiating off her in waves. She’s not used to this—being taken care of without having to ask. She’s used to men watching her and wanting her body, but neverher. Not really. That’s what I gathered from our private chat as DineroDaddy and CurvyBabe.
“Make yourself comfortable,” I say, gesturing to the plush seating area sunk into the floor just past the kitchen. She hesitates, but it’s fleeting, because she soon kicks off her heels, letting out a content sigh.
“You’re so lucky you don’t have to wear heels,” she murmurs under her breath.
With more confidence than before, Lety keeps her head up as she moves to sit on the couch. She sinks into the soft cushion, making herself comfortable. Most of her earlier nerves have gone away, as her body relaxes, looking more at home here. I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to lay her out and feast upon her until she begs me to stop. The thought hardens my cock, and I clear my throat, needing to look away. I want to seduce her, not scare her with a raging hard on. At least, not yet.
Except I can’t help but notice how well she belongs in my home—like a permanent fixture that was always meant to be here. She makes herself cozy on my couch, tucking her feet under her as she reaches for a throw pillow to put behind her head. She must sense me staring at her because she looks up, raising an annoyed brow. “Well? Are you going to order food?”
I laugh and disappear to grab the wine I’d left chilling this morning. I dig my phone out of my pocket and locate the closest Chinese restaurant that delivers. By the time I return, food has been ordered, but before I can let her know, she startles like she forgot I was here. Or maybe she just forgot she was alone with me. In my home.
