Page 61 of The Boss

“Really?” I was in honest to God shock.

“I don’t lie, princess. A Solstice.”

The car wasn’t very expensive. Was he doing this to impress me? No, that couldn’t be the case. “Interesting color for a man such as yourself.”

“Were you thinking blood red?”

I gave him a lust-filled look. “Why, yes. It suits you.”

“Then you don’t know me that well. It’s called mean yellow.” He studied me as he removed the convertible top, tossing it along with our things in the very tiny trunk.

“Maybe it does fit you perfectly.”

“I’ll have you know I bought this at a car auction. Less than ten grand. I had it shipped all the way from Philadelphia.” After dumping the things in the small trunk, he opened the passenger door for me.

“You’re being a gentleman and I adore the color name.”

“Did you doubt it? I do have a mother. She taught me manners. If I was rude to anyone, she’d tweak my ear and let me tell you, it hurt like hell.” He closed the door, bending down to wink at me before walking to the other side.

He could surprise me with silly quips and kind words. He could also terrify me with the looks he gave. Once inside, he started and revved the engine. The garage-style door magically opened and he floored the car out into the open, spinning it around, the tires screeching. It was a five speed and I had a feeling he knew how to drive this baby.

I was proven right as he zoomed out of the small parking lot, hitting the road at forty-five miles per hour. The bastard was doing this on purpose. Little did he know I might hate planes, but I adored fast cars.

As he drove, I finally relaxed, savoring every inch of the beautiful scenery.

The road was curved and he took every one with tight precision. I was laughing as I enjoyed the ride more than he thought Iwould. His constant looks were almost endearing, but it was the thick bulge between his legs that set my soul on fire.

My body as well.

I could no longer call her a betraying bitch. My mind was now in agreement. As we rolled through a quaint town, he was forced to slow, highlighting the tiny shops and festive-looking restaurants.

“The best ice cream in Greece,” he pointed out, smiling when I said a single word.

“Yum.”

“An ice cream girl. Yes?”

“You don’t remember?” I taunted him. “Think about the last time I was here. I begged you for ice cream and you finally relented.”

He shook his head. “Pistachio. Right?”

“You remember.” How was that possible?

“How could I possibly forget? You were a little adorable pain in the ass that entire trip.”

I smacked him on the arm. “You will always be a bastard.”

“Yes, I will be. I kind of think you like that about me.”

“You think wrong.” At least I could laugh easily, maybe forgetting for a little while the horror we’d both been through. The guilt was still there, but my parents would want me to live.

If you could call this living.

I felt like I was floating at this point. A private plane. A massive estate. Another on an island. This was what all little girls dreamed of in finding their Prince Charming.

The inner voice told me I had to stop thinking that way.

Only a few minutes later, he pulled down a more private street and I remembered the gorgeous crape myrtles I’d loved so much. They were in full bloom, spreading a flowery display of petals across the road. It reminded me of a wedding.

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