Page 21 of Dimitri
"I don't need--"
"Be quiet." His deep slightly accented voice was as cold as ice and silenced her. When they reached the parking lot, he steered her towards a masculine jeep with the farm's logo stenciled onto the side.
"My office is a few blocks--" Hissing out a breath, when he simply unlocked the vehicle, she turned to face him. Before she could say another word, she was being hoisted into the vehicle, the seatbelt snapping around her.
It occurred to her to jump out but knew he would chase after her and she was beginning to feel the effects of the slap and scratches.
He got in and leaned over to open the glove compartment. "First aid kit." Dragging it out, he rummaged until he found iodine and cotton swabs.
"I don't need looking after."
"Apparently you do. This is going to sting." There was a hint of satisfaction in his tone when he wrenched her face towards him and placed the iodine-soaked cotton on the scratches. Even though she told herself she was going to be stoic, the pain had her screaming first and then cussing.
"You bloody monster." She gasped, sucking in a breath. "You bastard."
"Where did you learn to swear like that?" he asked in fascination.
"I'm going to kill you." Her eyes watered. "As soon as--" her head spun, and she had to lean back. His amusement turned into one of concern as she pressed a hand over her stomach.
"What is it?"
"Nothing." Nausea was churning inside her belly, and she prayed fervently that she would not be sick in front of him. That would be the last straw.
"When was the last time you ate?" he demanded.
"That's none of your business--" She gasped as he wrapped his hands around her throat.
"When?"
"I had coffee and a Twinkie this morning," she muttered.
"You bloody fool." He swore furiously in what she supposed was Russian. "You don't have enough sense to take care of yourself." Letting her go, he shoved the lever into reverse and peeled out of the lot.
"Where are you going?" Her cheek was stinging, and her stomach was heaving.
"To feed you. It so happens I passed a soup place on my way to the courthouse."
"I don't need you to feed me."
"Apparently you do." He spared her a glance before merging with the traffic. It was almost three in the afternoon, and traffic was heavy. Piles of dirty snow covered the sidewalk with pedestrians skipping and jumping over to get to where they were going. The place was a few blocks from the courthouse and tucked away from the street. She knew it and had ordered soup and home baked bread a few times.
Finding a parking spot, he switched the engine off and came around to help her out. When he swung her into his arms, she sneered at him. "Are you going to carry me inside?"
"I just might." Lowering her slowly, he deliberately eased his body closer to hers, trapping her between him and the vehicle. Heat curled inside her belly instantly and she fought to bring up an image of Michael. When that did not happen, she hissed at him.
"Get out of my way."
"Why?" he taunted. "Am I making you hot?"
"You flatter yourself." She forced her voice to remain cool, even though her heart was pounding.
"Don't worry Ms. Trent. I am just going to feed you."
She eased out a breath when he stepped back and allowed her to breathe.
The diner was almost empty at the beaming owner showed them to a table in the corner of the room. And told them the soup du jour was minestrone. "Guaranteed to warm your bellies and fill you to the brim. It comes with our freshly baked bread and homemade apple butter," she told them cheerfully; light blue eyes trained on Dimitri.
"We'll have that." With an autocratic nod of his dark head, he sent the woman scurrying.
