He lifts the backpack, dangling it over his head, just out of reach. “Not so fast, Pixie Stick. What’s the magic word?”
I plant a hand on his chest and shove, pushing away from the human refrigerator.
An inferno roars to life behind those glacial blue eyes, and the heat radiating off him makes my insides liquify.
I don’t let on.
In fact, I do exactly what you’re not supposed to do when confronted with a grizzly bear.
I poke it.
I jab him to the beat. “Give. Me. My. Bag.”
He scoffs. “Bzzz. Try again.”
My phone pings from inside the backpack.
I lunge for it.
He lifts it higher.
I lose my temper and stomp my foot like a toddler. “Bruto. Don’t test me, or I will knee you straight in your oversized balls.”
“Oversized?” One brow lifts. “Thanks for noticing.”
The elevator doors slide shut behind me with a smug little ding.
Just me.
Him.
And enough sexual tension to blow the doors off this elevator, along with half the city’s power grid.
I leap for my bag again.
Not only does he keep it just out of reach, but to add insult to injury, he snags my suitcase, too.
“What are you doing?” I snap.
“Rescuing you.”
I fling a hand at it. “From my suitcase?”
“In ten seconds, those doors will open,” he says calmly. “And a group of bloodthirsty paparazzi will be waiting on the other side. So, unless you want a suffocating amount of unwanted attention, you’ll do exactly as I say.”
I glance at the doors. Then back at him.
“Why should I trust you?”
He leans in, closing the last inch of space between us. “Because you don’t have a choice.”
I frown.
He begins to count. “One Mississippi. Two Mississippi?—”
“Okay. Okay.” I throw my hands up. “Fine.” I glare up at him. “What do I do?”
“Simple.” He drops the backpack over his shoulder. “Hide behind me. I’ll take care of the rest.”
