Page 19 of Brutal Bond
But Harper…
I can’t stop thinking about her.
I’ve been telling myself all week that it doesn’t mean anything. Well, anything other than she was a fantastic fuck toy that I want to enjoy again.
My shower took longer than expected, as confirmed by a quick glance at my Rolex. The car service will be arriving any minute. Quickly drying, I head to the walk-in closet and throw on a suit before grabbing my bag of supplies and heading downstairs to meet the driver.
I’m about ten minutes away.
I’ll come up to get you, be sure you’re ready.
We have dinner reservations to get to.
HARPER
You DO know it’s still lunchtime, right?
Are you questioning me, Harper?
Be ready.
Dots come and go for a moment, but the response I get would’ve only taken her a second to type and send.
K
We come to a stop outside a luxury apartment complex. One far too nice for Harper to be able to afford. She may have made enough money to rent this place last week, but there’s no way they would’ve had a vacancy that quickly. This is one of the most sought-after buildings in the city. I’m only more intrigued—or perplexed—when security gives me directions to her apartment. It’s not the penthouse, but it’s still half the floor.
Knocking on the door, I’m pleased to find Harper ready to go. She gently nudges me out of the way and steps into the hallway. “I would invite you in, but my roommate has company over.”
“Understood.” I slip my hand against the small of her back and lead her toward the elevator. My hand lingers just above her ass as we ride down to the lobby.
Stepping from the building and onto the street, I motion toward the Town Car.
“I expected you to be more of a flashy sports car kind of guy.” She smiles up at me as she slides across the backseat.
“I am.” I smirk at her astute observation of me.
We ride in silence for the majority of our short ride to the airfield. My eyes repeatedly roam over her body, wondering if she’s wearing the lacy undergarments I hand-picked for her under the vintage Valentina dress Erin purchased. Or if the plug is tucked snugly in her ass.
“So, Edmund.” she breaks the silence. “Why are you rushing me out of the door before one in the afternoon for a dinner date?”
Perfect timing.
We pull to a stop on the tarmac, and I open the door, exposing the private aircraft needed to take us to dinner. Extending my hand, she tentatively slips hers into it before climbing out of the car.
“Where are we going?” she asks timidly.
“Delilah’s.”
“And that’s where?”
“Vegas.”
“Before I get on that plane, I’m going to text my roommate and tell her where you’re taking me.”
And she’s smart, too.
Not too smart, though; she’s still planning to get on the plane.
