Page 25 of The Savage

We walk quickly but our conversation in loaded with angry whispers, and she bites back, “Maybe not, but you owe it to me to know what’s coming. Surely, I should be armed with the information before I’m traded like a fucking mule.”

“Watch your fucking language. Ladies don’t swear. Didn’t they teach you anything at that fancy school of yours?”

“They taught me to fight arseholes like you.”

“They did not.”

I laugh merely to incense her further and she hisses, “You caught me off-guard. I was in a weak moment. We will revisit it later and I will enjoy wiping that smug bastard grin off your face.”

“I’m looking forward to it, princess.”

We reach passport control and thank fuck for computers because all we have to do is scan our passports. I’m really hoping that Malik’s technology is up to this because one false reading and we could be in trouble. However, knowing my sinister friend, he will have paid off every official in this building already, so I’m kind of relaxed as I pass through the machine.

Luckily, I’m through and look behind and see Charlotte huffing as she tries to get hers to work and rolling my eyes I say tightly, “Other way around. For fuck’s sake, you’re clueless.”

She flashes me an angry look and my cock stirs as it senses an evening of animosity with the delightful creature in my care. I love a good fight; I always have and with a woman like her, the fight is a very different one. Mainly, I’ll be fighting my attraction to her because Malik’s subliminal message wasn’t lost on me. Keep my hands off and I probably know why. If the plan does work and we swap her with Winter, Massimo will be spitting bullets if he ever found out I’d defiled his virgin daughter. It’s the mafia way, which is why Angelo was so careful with Winter at Rockwell. If the man she married discovered his wife wasn’t a virgin on their wedding night, she wouldn’t wake up in the morning. Malik was right to remind me of that and a groan of frustration makes its way out into the world, causing Charlotte to glare at me angrily as she stomps from the passport booth.

“It’s not my fault technology is complicated. Actually, mine didn’t work, perhaps I should report it. No wonder there are queues at these places.”

Grabbing her arm, I say tightly, “The only problem princess, is you, so shut the fuck up and do as you’re told before my hand revisits your fucking arse, as you call it.”

That does the trick, and she stares at me with pure hatred flashing from her eyes and raises her finger and runs it along her lips, as if zipping it tightly. Despite my frustration, it makes me laugh and the animosity in her expression makes me laugh even harder as I steer her through customs and out through the arrivals hall.

CHAPTER17

CHARLOTTE

Iam tired, grouchy, and completely fed up. Ivan is being impossible and acting as if he’s my bodyguard or something. There’s also that name I’ve been saddled with. It’s embarrassing and I’m glad I was spared the humiliation of having my passport checked by an actual human and not a machine. In fact, that’s probably why the machine failed. It was having its own laugh at my expense. I’m guessing if machines could, it would have transmitted it to all the other machines, and they could have enjoyed a laugh at my expense.

Now I’m delirious because my thoughts are even crazier than me right now and I’m relieved when we head into the arrivals hall and see a man wearing the same uniform as the captain of the private plane, holding up a sign that reads, Mr. and Mrs. Belton.

Ivan chuckles when he sees it and I hiss, “Don’t go getting any ideas about the benefits attached to that title.”

To my surprise, he grabs my arse hard and whispers, “Trust me, princess, you’ll be the one begging for it, not me.”

“In your dreams, savage.”

I bite back and his low laugh almost makes me smile.

We approach the man, who nods respectfully.

“Sir, madam, please follow me.”

I see Ivan dashing out a quick text on his phone, and I’m curious.

“What are you doing?”

He whispers, “Checking this guy is who he says he is.”

“Oh.”

It strikes me I’m so trusting and luckily for me, Ivan is always one step ahead of the game because I haven’t forgotten that we were both poisoned on his own fucking plane. I think he is right to trust no one and against my better judgment, I squeeze his hand a little tighter.

The chauffeur leads us to a large stretch limo outside and I stare in fascination at possibly the ugliest car I have ever seen.

Ivan sighs heavily. “Fucking Malik. Why does he insist on shit like this? We’re hardly invisible now.”

The chauffeur opens the door and after a quick check inside, Ivan helps me into the sumptuous interior of a car that shouldn’t be labeled as such. It’s more like a hotel room and as the door closes, I stare around at a form of transport I wasn’t expecting.

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