Page 164 of Hate to Love You
After our romp, I woke sore, in all the right ways. Minus that leg cramp, that even now still sends a spasm through my body, randomly making me shiver.
He didn’t make me admit my jealousy, and he didn’t ask me why I cut Heather. He didn’t even ask me about the letter opener that I clearly stole from his desk.
What he did do, however, was send me home…with his cum still dripping from my pussy.
A long, relatively restless sleep followed, wishing that he had come home with me.
But when I showed up this morning, Roman acted as though the events of the day before hadn’t happened. All in all, it was a relatively normal day.
…Until he sent me shopping at lunch.
“You can run, and I will chase you.”
His words still linger in my mind annoyingly as I spend the rest of the afternoon testing the limit on Roman’s card.
I spent forty grand in Mimi’s, twelve grand on greenhouse necessities, and ten grand on some new art supplies.
And then of course there was the five grand donation I made online to the “New York Widows and Orphans Fund,” while I was waiting in line.
I’m sure Roman will love that one.
But as I stroll out of the last boutique, I see Trevor waiting for me beside the blacked-out SUV. He opens the back passenger side door, but not for me.
…For Roman.
He steps out of the car in his black suit, and matching aviator sunglasses, with an arrogant smirk.
“Having fun, Miss Wayne?” He asks me as I approach.
“Ahh Roman! Fancy seeing you here? Don’t you have a meeting in fifteen minutes on the other side of the city?” I say sweetly, batting my lashes at him. “Because if you do, I think you’re going to be late!”
“Get in the fucking car, Abigail.”
“Well, aren’t you in a fine mood this morning?” I say, rolling my eyes, my shoulders sagging. “Couldn’t you lighten up a bit? It wouldn’t kill you, you know.”
He sighs, his hand running through his hair. “Just get in the car.”
My arms cross across my chest, bumping the bags together as I stare at him, “Manners?”
“Please?” He asks between gritted teeth.
Out of the corner of my eye I see Trevor’s eyebrows jump as he listens to our conversation, and Roman Antonov saying “please.”
It isn’t like him to cave so quickly, or even politely.
“Okay, okay.” I mutter with a shrug before raising my arms that are weighted with bags, “What do I do with these?”
Trevor steps forward, his hand outstretched for me, “I’ll take them, and put them in the back for you.”
However, as he reaches for my bags, I notice the gun attached to a harness under his jacket, and then another tucked into his waistband. I pause, my eyes widening as I stare at him carefully putting my items in the car.
Trevor glances over at Roman, whose eyes are meticulously scanning the street around us.
What’s going on?
Roman slides across the seat to make room for me.
Running my hands down the front of my skirt I walk forward, closing the distance between us and slide into the seat. The leather is still warm from where he was sitting.