Page 2 of Greed

“We’ll drop you off,” he offers. “There’s more than enough room in my car for you and your tiara.”

I smooth my fingers over the clear stones on the headpiece. “Thank you, but I’ll grab another ride.”

“You can trust me.”

My eyes lock on his. “Can I?”

That sends his head back in laughter, and it’s a sight to behold. Some men are handsome. Others border on gorgeous, but Declan Wells is in his own category. I know I’m not the only one who thinks that. Half of the women I work with have mentioned how hot he is.

His hand dives into the inner pocket of his jacket. He produces a leather wallet. He has it open in no time, and his driver’s license is in his palm.

“See for yourself.” He turns the license toward me so I can read the details, including his birthdate, thirty-three years ago.

“Declan Wells,” I say. “You live in a nice building.”

That’s putting it mildly. His address borders Central Park.

“Where do you live?”

“Not near you.” I smile. “Brooklyn.”

He steps closer to me. “I’ll need more than that to get you to your front door…”

The way the sentence trails off and the furrow of his brow suggests he’s searching for something. I’m willing to offer it, so I do.

“Abigail. My friends call me Abby.”

“Abby,” he repeats. “Where in Brooklyn do you live, Abby?”

I smile. “In an apartment.”

He tilts his head slightly as he studies my face. “Why don’t I have Rygar drop me off first, and then he’ll drive you home? If you make him promise not to tell me where you live, he won’t.”

“You pay him,” I point out. “He’ll tell you anything.”

“Rygar’s a good man. He’s an honorable man.” He gestures to an approaching black car. “Let us give you a lift. It’s the least I can do since those glass slippers are killing your feet.”

A soft laugh escapes me. “How can you tell?”

His gaze drops to my feet before darting back to my face. “Your nose scrunches every few seconds from the pain you’re in, and the way you keep shuffling from one foot to another is a dead giveaway.”

I stare into his eyes as the car stops next to the curb.

“Your chariot awaits.” He moves a half step to the left as the gray-haired driver exits the car.

I didn’t plan to get into a car with Declan Wells tonight, but it’s just a ride. It’s not as though he’s going to ravish me on the car seat.

“Okay.” I nod. “I accept.”

The driver swings the back passenger door open, but before he can extend a hand to help me step off the curb, Declan has his at the ready.

I slide mine into it, and a sudden shiver courses through me. There’s no denying my body’s reaction to his touch.

I tear my gaze away from his handsome face, get into the car, and remind myself to breathe.

CHAPTERTWO

Abby

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