Page 51 of Boost

“This was a mistake. Take me home,” I demanded, for a second time.

“No.”

I angled toward him. “Yes, Raf. Or take me back to the gala!”

His jaw ticked. “I said no.”

“Oh great, so you’re going to punish me because you didn’t get your own way?” I huffed, and crossed my arms, then uncrossed them when I saw how much it pushed up my cleavage.

“Mamacita, youagreedto my way as soon as you sat your ass in this damn car, and again when you let my fingers inside you. Now, I’mma get us some ice cream, then drop you home.”

“And what if I don’t want ice cream?”

He kept his eyes straight ahead. “Then don’t have any.”

I bit back a retort and shook my head. My teeth ground together as I mentally worked through the frustrations.

Tonight, Rafael had worn the tux and walked through the minefield of money and power, yet the moment he shucked out of the jacket and bow-tie, the boy from Compton reappeared. The one that did and said whatever he wanted, consequences be damned.

Studying him through the shadows, I let out a snort. “Let me guess, you’re a Rocky Road kind of guy, or Butter Pecan?”

He rolled his head my way and a wry smile tilted one corner of his mouth. A single word was pronounced as if it was dipped in sex itself.“Vanilla.”

I fought a smile. “You’re lying.”

“Have you ever known me to lie, Boss Lady?”

He had a point; as far as I was aware, during the entire month and a half I’d known him, all that came out of his mouth was the sharp-edged truth.

I took a deep breath and forced myself to not fall into the trap of verbally sparring with him again. I could hold my own in the boardroom and stand in front of the media without breaking a sweat, but put me next to Rafael Ortiz and my sensibilities were scrambled.

We headed south and soon pulled into the drive-through lane of an ice cream parlour I didn’t know existed.

“You know this place?” I asked, shifting forward to check out the menu.

“Best this side of the city,” he mumbled, while leaning across my lap to open the glove compartment.

I couldn’t help the gasp that escaped when I caught sight of a handgun haphazardly tossed in among the papers andcash.

Raf’s dark eyes flicked up to meet mine. “Problem?”

Holding his unwavering stare, I slowly inhaled while willing my pulse to calm.

“Depends on why you’re concealing a firearm and a large sum of money in your car.”

“Business, baby.” Raf lifted his brows once and gave me a toothy grin that was anything but angelic. He plucked out a single, large-denomination note. “My treat.”

“If that gets out, it’s not going to look good,” I warned.

He seemed un-phased as he clicked the glove compartment closed. “It won’t get out. Now, what do you want?”

Casting my attention outside again, I quickly read the menu for the first thing that was remotely appealing.

“Burnt caramel sundae with caramel topping, and pistachios.”

Raf tilted his head back and studied me down his nose like he did when he was either surprised or taken off-guard.

“Good choice, Boss Lady.” He turned to place the order, adding a vanilla sundae with berry topping and roasted strawberries for himself.

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