She lets me feed her the delicate pasta. “Divine.”
“If you like that, you must bend over for any strange fuck.”
“What?” She drops her fork. It clatters to the china, spattering sauce on the front of her dress. “What was that?”
“I said—” I stand up, shaking out my napkin with a snap. “If you like that, you have to try the next course. It's duck.”
“Must be really windy out here.” She sounds a little panicked.
I pat at the droplets on her skin. “I'll have them bring the food downstairs. You look cold.” I wrap the fur cloak around her and usher her inside. “Leave the wine. I have more downstairs.”
“Downstairs?” she murmurs but doesn't fight me when I take her away. It's only a floor down, but it might as well be another world.
My penthouse is warm. There's a fire.
“Do you want the rest of your dinner, or”—I unwrap the bow on the box of pastries I had delivered to my penthouse—“dessert?”
“The pastries are supposed to be a thank-you present,” she protests.
I select one.
“Thanks for rescuing me last night.” Winnie twists her hands.
“Of course. Though I have to admit—”
“Admit what?” There's a slight tremor in her voice.
“It was purely selfish.” I finish off the pastry. “I don't know if you know this about me”—I dust off my hands—“but I don't like it when other men touchwhat's mine.” I run my fingers through the soft hair at the back of her neck under the shaggy bob.
“Who was he?” I ask.
“I—I don't know,” she admits.
“Don't know?” I breathe in the scent of her, let my lips linger on her back where her shoulder blades meet. “Or don't want to tell?”
“Please, like I want some strange man in my bedroom.”
“I bet you want it a lot,” I whisper.
“What?” The word is too loud in the quiet. She whirls around.
“I asked, did you call the cops?”
Winnie presses a hand to her head.
I kiss her till she's dizzy then deposit her on the couch.
“Carolina wants me to call the police,” she says over her shoulder, watching me make her a drink. “I guess I really should.”
Yeah, I don't need them poking around. I didn't cover my tracks that well. Also, fuck the cops. They keep giving me parking tickets.
I hand her the drink.
“Don't bother,” I tell her, flippant. She frowns.
I reach out, smooth her brow, cup her face, stroke her hair. “They won't take you seriously. I'm putting my security team on it.”
“A security team?”
