Page 6 of Twisted Knight

“Let’s go,” he ordered with a low sexy voice before reaching for my suitcase on the floor and walking out.

Was he a security guy working for Cassie’s husband? I knew she married well, but I didn't know much more. She’d been quite evasive about the whole situation, but she seemed genuinely happy when I saw her on Skype, so I was not really worried. My cousin had been to hell and back—I trusted her judgment.

“Can I have your name?” I asked the man as we reached the underground parking.

“Domenico.”

My pace faltered; it was impossible. “Youare Dom?”TheDom Cassie described to me was funny and kind and all in all a unicorn, but right now he seemed more like a strict asshole to me.

He threw me a side-glance before stopping by a luxurious black car.

“Why?”

I sighed with exasperation. “Are you the type of man to answer questions with another question?”

“And what type of man is that?” he asked, putting my suitcase in the trunk.

I rolled my eyes and followed him to the front of the car.

He reached for a paper from under his wiper; his nostril flared as he read it and looked around the quiet parking lot. If I thought, he was scowling before, he looked murderous now.

“Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked, bunching the paper in his fist before putting it in his pocket. “Get in.”

“You know it’s bound to get very old, very fast,” I told him as he reversed the car out of the spot.

“What is?” he asked, throwing me a quick look before concentrating on the road again.

“You!” I snapped. “I met you ten minutes ago, and I already feel like murdering you. Cassie made it seem like you were such a nice person.” I shook my head, looking out the window, deciding I was done with him and this conversation.

“Are you really Cassie’s cousin?” he asked after a while.

I turned toward him. “Why? Is it the skin color that throws you off?” I was biracial and it’s true that when people heard my name McKenna, they rarely expected a half Indian girl to walk in.

“No.” He threw me a look that seemed to say it was the stupidest thing he ever heard. “Why would you say that?”

I raised an eyebrow at him; how could I not?

He shook his head. “No, Cassie’s a midget.”

“And I’m not?”

“Exactly.”

I shrugged. “Genetics, I guess. My mom is pale and short like Cassie so I presume it all comes from my father—not that I would know.”

“Uh, the joy of genetics.”

“Indeed.”

I didn’t miss the fact that he didn’t press the issue about my father—yep, the man knew more about me than he said.

“Let’s start over. I wouldn’t want Cassie to think I was rude,” he said as we exited the interstate.

“But you were.”

He threw me an irritated side-look. “Hence the due over.”

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