Ransome isn’t the only one with a lot at stake. He’s not the only one who has to play that game and play it smart.
So, yeah—I look good enough for Ransome to really notice me. Good enough to convince everyone that I am his.
Maybe even good enough to convince him.
31
RANSOME
Amara opens the door and her mouth pops open in surprise.
“Expecting someone else?” I ask while trying to pretend that the purple dress I handpicked for her isn’t going to be the culprit of a four-hour hard-on.
“The driver, maybe?”
“Is the driver taking you to dinner?” I ask.
She gives me a confused look. “No, but he does usually drive me places. It’s why I call him the driver.”
“I’m driving tonight,dorogoya.” I place my hand on her lower back and guide her out of the penthouse.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” she asks in an attempt to be formal. But you know what’s not formal? That fucking dress. It’s hugging her curves like it’s holding on for dear life, showing off the fact that she is both fit and delicious.
“I told you. I’m taking you out tonight. No business, only pleasure,” I say, and I swear I can feel the goosebumps prick on her skin under the fabric when I say the wordpleasure.
After that, I go through all the rituals. Tonight, Amara is not my assistant. And she’s certainly not a hostage. She’s my date.
So I open the door and close it for her. I ask if she is comfortable. And when she responds with, “The front seat is certainly more comfortable than the trunk, that’s for sure…”
I respond with a tiny upward tick in one corner of my mouth instead of the scowl that feels more natural to her attitude.
“Do you want to listen to music?” I ask as we drive. The night is black other than the streetlights streaking by.
“I highly doubt we have the same taste in music,” she says with a giggle.
“Try me,” I say.
“Alright. I like older stuff. The Who, The Doors, Hendrix?—”
“Queen,” I add, and it’s not a question.
It also gets her attention. “How do you know I like Queen?”
“I’ve seen you notice the record on my wall. I’ve also heard you hummingDon’t Stop Me Nowat work.”
“Who’s watching who?” she asks snarkily.
“I’m the boss. It’s my job to know everything.”
“And I’m your assistant. It’s my job to make sure you know everything.”
That earns an actual smirk, though it’s still only on one side and not a full one. But she notices. And while I park the car in reserved parking in front of Blue Fin, I try to decide if I care.
I don’t.
“Sushi?” she asks as I open the door for her. She takes my hand and I help her out, then place it in the crook of my elbow as we walk inside.
“I’ve noticed you order Japanese a lot, and this is the best sushi restaurant in the city. I’ve also noticed that you order in a lot.”
