Page 49 of To Tango, with Desire

“Yes. But you need to wear the ring.”

“Zane.”

“Keep it on a chain at work. But when you’re out, it’s on that finger. Understood?”

She gritted her teeth now and I knew that this was torture for her. A woman like Amira fought against every restrictive rule in life. She clawed her way through until she got what she wanted, and I admired her for it. Grit and hard work were what enabled her to open up her own business in her twenties. She was passionate and determined, not to mention stubborn as hell.

And it turned me on.

I needed all her passion, all that fire, on every level. I didn’t care that she would drive me crazy or that we would fight. I wanted her all to myself.

It was selfish. It was greedy. But I didn’t fucking care.

I was done convincing myself otherwise. This woman got under my skin, and I craved her like air.

“Fine. But I’m going back upstairs to say goodbye to my guests, then I’m going home. Alone, Zane.”

I stepped back. “Then I’ll have my driver waiting to pick you up.”

“Zane—”

“It’s done, Amira. No woman should be going home alone in the middle of the night. You don’t want my company, that’s fine, but you will be escorted. Don’t argue with me on this.”

“Or what?” she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Or I’ll have you over my knee and spanked for that kind of behavior. The last time, if I recall, you seemed to enjoy it.”

She gasped, and I was pleased to see a delicate blush stain her cheeks.

There were so many things I wanted to do to her. So many ways I wanted to make her mine.

“You’re infuriating, you know that?”

I grinned as she stormed off, enjoying the delicate sway of her hips in those heels.

She was so damn tempting in that red dress and I couldn’t stop fantasizing about bending her over and—

I groaned, walking across the street to where my own car was parked. Not tonight. She wasn’t ready yet. She still needed time to process everything.

But soon.

I placed the call through to my man, then settled back in my seat until she came out, willing the blood away from my cock. I’d wait until she got into her parents’ house safely before going home and having a cold shower. Hell, I’d need an ice bath to dampen this desire.

Soon, Amira Hadid would become my wife.

I couldn’t fucking wait.

THIRTEEN

AMIRA

“You know this is absurd, right?” I sat opposite Zane, with the backdrop of the city skyline behind me, wondering how my life had ended up here. Dating a billionaire. Engaged to a billionaire.

That Saturday morning, two weeks since Zane had rocked up to my parents’ house asking to marry me, I woke up to find a package had been delivered. In it was an exquisite floor-length satin evening dress in gold. Its thin spaghetti straps left my back bare and the material clung to my breasts and hips. It was decadent and stunningly beautiful. And had no doubt cost a fortune.

My parents oohed and ahhed over it, when normally I would get a disapproving frown for daring to wear something so bold. But because it was from Zane, that made it all very acceptable.

In the box was a note apologizing again for my birthday fiasco and information about a booking for dinner tonight. The fact that he’d been able to get a table at such short notice at one of Melbourne’s exclusive restaurants would have been impressive, if I weren’t still annoyed at him.