Page 42 of Power & Punishment

Mia clings to her side of the backseat, gripping at the door just to get away from me.

It’s kind of funny, actually. Just a few hours ago, she was grinding against my hand, trying to get closer.

I’m not surprised. I could see the disgust laced in her eyes when we were done. She wanted to wash her hands clean of me, and I never wanted to wash mine again.

So long story short—instead of making her scream my name in the back of this car, she’s playing the silent game while I flip through emails on my phone.

Mia’s phone rings, pulling my attention away from some annoying constituent complaints clogging up my inbox.

She pauses as she looks at the screen, discreetly side-eyeing me before answering.

When the screen won’t quit lighting up, she lets out a frustrated groan and accepts the call. “Hey, Keith.”

I can’t hear much of what’s on the other end of the speaker. All I get is the rapid murmuring of her irritating partner’s voice.

“Yeah, I know,” she says when she finally gets a second to speak. “I’m fine, Keith. I swear. I just wasn’t feeling up to it tonight.”

Well, that’s a hit to my ego. I thought she was feeling great.

“Okay, I promise I’ll come next time. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Goodnight.”

She hangs up and casually slides the phone back into her pocket before turning back to her window. But I’ve decided I’ve had enough of the ice out, so I unbuckle her seat belt.

“What are you⁠—”

Before she can say anything else, I grab her thigh and pull her across the bench seat. “That’s better.”

“Are you fucking crazy?” Mia yells, attempting to wrestle my hand from her thigh. When it’s obvious I’m not budging, she lets out a disgruntled exhale and crosses her arms.

“Why is he calling you? Isn’t he having drinks with some of your cop friends?”

She looks up at me, surprise coating her features. “How do you know—” and then she stops herself as her face melts into a cool understanding. “Wow, you really are crazy. Do you stalk all the women you’re blackmailing?”

“Contrary to belief, I’m a one-woman kind of stalker,” I wink, pulling my hand back to my lap before I give in to the temptation of what lies underneath those clothes.

Mia snorts one second, and the next her eyes widen as she slaps a hand over her mouth.

“It’s okay to laugh. I’m actually quite funny.”

That doesn’t earn anything other than an eye roll, much to my dismay. “Whatever. Since you know so much about my life, then I don’t feel the need to answer your question.”

I silence the growl building up in my throat. I thought women liked it when you asked questions about their personal life. “I’m just trying to fill the silence.”

“I know. Men like you can’t bear the sound of their own thoughts.”

“That almost hurt. Except, I’m quite content with what’s going on in my head. I keep replaying the scene of you fucking my hand until you screamed my name.”

A light blush coats her cheeks, and it’s almost endearing. Until she opens her mouth again. “Well, I hope you have a good memory, because it’s never happening again.”

Before I can partake in some more of my chosen love language—aka threatening her—the car comes to a stop, and the Russo’s bar appears.

“Thank God,” Mia says, attempting to slide over to her door. Before she can go too far, I grip her forearm tight enough to make sure she looks directly at me.

“Careful. You keep saying ‘never’ like you’re trying to convince yourself, not me.”

Tension pulls across her forehead. Her lips part to say something, but our moment is cut short when my driver opens up the door.

Mia jumps out of the vehicle and stomps ahead to our destination. Usually, I’d be upset after being dismissed so rudely, but what’s there to be upset about when the view is this good?