1. Chapter 1 #3
I watch her decide what she’s going to do. Putting aside how hard I am, I came ready to drag her ass out of here if I had to. Not to force her to fuck. I’d never force myself on a woman. But I’ll force information out of her. I’ve done this many times before, and I know how to get what I want.
She looks at the car, then looks at me, and makes her choice.
“What kind of questions?”
I’m curious about why she keeps watching that car. But if it helps ensure she leaves with me, I’ll take it.
“The kind you won’t want to answer in public.” I nod toward the side exit. “My car’s out back. We can talk somewhere more private.”
She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “You think I’m stupid enough to get in a car with a Sinclair?”
“I think you’re smart enough to know that if I want you to come with me, then you’ll come with me.” I lean in close, my mouth near her ear. “Fighting it is a mistake, by the way. People who don’t answer my questions tend to regret it. But we can discuss that later.”
Silence. I can see the tension in her jaw, the way she’s fighting to keep her expression neutral. She’s scared, but she’s not panicking—she’s weighing her options.
“Fine.”
I expected to have to grab her. I expected a damn fight. In truth, I kind of wanted one.
She pushes past me and heads toward the side exit.
I follow, thrown off by her again tonight. She walks to my car like she’s the one who decided to be here, like this whole thing was her idea. I unlock the doors and open the passenger side.
She pauses, looking at the interior.
“What?”
“Nothing.” She slides in. “It’s just that a custom McLaren seems so typical.”
She thinks she’s fucking cute. I grind my teeth as I close her door and go around to the driver’s side. When I get in, she’s already buckled with her hands folded in her lap, looking calm and composed.
But her eyes keep darting to the rearview mirror.
I start the engine and pull out of the lot. She twists in her seat to look through the back window, watching the black car until we turn the corner and it disappears from view.
Only then does she face forward again, and her shoulders drop with relief. But there’s something underneath it. Something that looks a lot like dread.
Whoever was in that car, she didn’t want them to see which direction we went.
“You want to tell me who that was?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure I don’t owe you a goddamn thing.” She turns to look at me, jaw tight, eyes blazing. “You want to ask about my father? Fine. But my personal life isn’t part of this deal. And if you think kidnapping me gives you some kind of leverage, then you’re dumber than you look.”
“Kidnapping?” I almost laugh. “Sweetheart, you got in the car willingly.”
“Don’t call me sweetheart.”
“Princess?”
Her jaw tightens. “Don’t call me that either.”
God I really like this woman. Even if every part of my body didn’t want to fuck her, I’d still want her around.
“Then what should I call you?”
“Nothing.” She faces forward again. “You shouldn’t call me anything. Ask your questions, get your answers, and let me out of this car.”
I let the silence stretch. She’s good at this—the sharp tongue, the refusal to show weakness. But I caught the way her eyes roamed over me back at the club. The way her breath changed when I leaned in close.
She’s not as unaffected as she wants me to think.
We drive in silence. She doesn’t ask where we’re going, doesn’t try to grab the wheel or jump out at a stoplight. She just watches the road, occasionally checking the mirrors.
She came with me to escape someone. Whoever was in that car. And I don’t know why yet.
But I’m going to find out.
I glance at her profile in the glow of the streetlights—the sharp line of her jaw, the curve of her throat, the dark blonde hair falling across her shoulders. I think about the way she looked in that hallway.
My cock twitches again, and I shift in my seat.
She catches the movement. Her lips curve into something that isn’t quite a smile.
“See something you like, Sinclair?”
“I see something I’m going to take.”
The words hang between us. Her smile falters.
I watch her reassess—watch the moment it lands that I’m not just some rich asshole asking questions about her daddy.
Her eyes drop to my hands on the steering wheel, then back to my face.
She’s looking for something. Trying to figure out exactly how much danger she’s in.
She’s a smart girl.
“You’re not going to hurt me.” She says it like she’s trying to convince herself.
She holds her fingers against her mouth, parting her lips like she might suck on them, which would push me over the fucking edge. But then rests her hand back in her lap.
“Not in the way you might fear. But I’m going to get the information that I need.”
She’s quiet for a long moment. When she turns back to the window, her shoulders are tighter than before.
She might think she escaped something—whatever the fuck that was—by getting in my car. But she has no goddamn idea.
I’m going to peel back every layer of that control she wields so well until she tells me what I want to know.
And if she willingly gets on her knees in the process, even fucking better.
But something tells me this woman isn’t going to break easily.
Good. I’ve been fucking bored anyway.