Bare legs, soft skin. She smells like spring mornings and trouble. I finally glance over, once. Briefly. Big mistake.
Her knees are drawn up, legs tucked to the side. She’s practically curled into the seat like a cat: lazy, comfortable, and fully aware of the effect she has. Her blonde waves cascade over one shoulder, partially covering the subtle curve of her chest that the cotton buttons barely contain.
I look away. Fast.
“I’m not grumpy,” I say flatly. “I’m quiet. You should try it sometime.”
She grins, unfazed. “You know, for a guy who acts like he’s above all this, you sure do stare a lot.”
“I’m not staring. I’d like to remind you thatyouwere the one staring back at the house.”
“Right.” She runs her pink tongue across her bottom lip, wetting it.
We stop at a red light and I adjust my cufflink just to stop myself from reaching across the seat. “Don’t be a brat.”
She hums in response. “I’m hungry.”
I blink once. “We’re ten minutes from the airport.”
“Which is ten minutes too long when I haven’t had anything to eat since sunrise.”
It’s nearly seven at night.
She pouts, dragging the syllables out like she’s talking to a sugar daddy. “I want snacks.”
I let out a slow breath. “Mara?—”
“Are you going to starve me too? What is this, hostage protocol? My brother didn’t starve Valentina when he took her captive.”
I shoot a glance to the driver in the rearview. Without waiting for orders, he signals right and exits the highway.
I make a mental note to reassign him. Permanently.
“Fine,” I grit out. “But make it quick.”
“You’re so generous,” she says, grinning. “I’ll be sweet again once I get my gummy bears.”
Was she ever sweet to begin with?
The car rolls to a stop beside a modern gas station— glass-fronted, clean, and far too quiet. I don’t like it already.
Mara opens her door, one leg slipping out with slow grace. “I’ll go alone. Don’t worry, I’ll be fast.”
I grab my wallet and toss her a platinum card. “Take this. The pin is 1919.”
Her brows raise in surprise but she catches it. “Is that the year you were born?”
“Don’t be insolent.”
She disappears inside.
Mara
The moment the glass doors shut behind me, the air changes. Too bright. Too white. Too clean.
My chest tightens. Fluorescent lighting is never a good sign. It prickles at the back of my neck, makes my skin crawl like I’m being watched, even when I’m not.
I grip the platinum card so hard the edges bite into my palm.
