Page 236 of Hate to Love You
“It’s not just for show. It’s also for protection, it prevents our enemies from tracking us,” he explains before pulling out a key fob and pressing it toward the wall.
Only it wasn’t a wall, with a click it slides open, revealing a sleek yellow car.
“Got a thing for yellow?” I laugh, looking at Roman.
“No, but you do,” he smirks, knowing damn well how much I dislike the color.
“What is it?” I ask, staring at what appears to be a mix between a sports car and an SUV.
“Lamborghini Urus. The best of both worlds.”
“How so?”
“Well, it’s a hybrid, with its streamlined body, it’s fast, but is built like an SUV, allowing for modifications,” he explains, opening the door for me. “And perfect for where our next meeting is.”
“Wouldn’t you want something… less bold?” I ask, staring at the carbon fiber hood. “If you’re avoiding being tracked by your enemies and all?”
“You mean something boring,” he states, reaching around and grabbing the seat belt. He buckles it, tugging on it lightly as he smirks at me.
“No,” I say with a shrug. “It’s just this yells look at me.”
“They can look all they want,” he grins, closing the door and rounding the car to the trunk.
He opens it and pulls out a harness.
“Caesar.”
The dog obeys, sitting patiently while Roman attaches a harness around his chest and shoulders before snapping his fingers and instructing the pup into the backseat.
As he buckles Caesar in, my fingers trace over the raised custom “Antonov” embossing on the dash, leaning my head against the headrest I take in the rest of the car.
My nose scrunches at the new car smell. Most people would think that it’s the crisp fresh leather, but it’s not, it’s mostly all chemical, and there’s nothing “new” about it at all.
Roman slides into the car, and the engine roars to life in the confined space before pressing his finger against one of the screens.
Jesus Christ, it even has two screens.
Tires screech as he floors it straight out of the hanger.
“Jesus!” I squeak, slamming my hand down onto the dash. Roman turns sharply, forcing me to grab hold of the door handle.
Increasing in speed, we start to approach the airfield exit, which still has the barrier down.
“Uh, Roman?” I mutter, watching that barrier get closer and closer.
With a laugh, he slams on the brakes, as we skid to a stop just before the barrier.
“Open it,” he barks out of the window at the poor security guard manning the exit.
“Yes, Mr. Antonov,” the man replies curtly.
Slowly, the barrier opens, and before it’s even fully lifted the car flies through it, turning sharply as we enter traffic.
Out of the corner of my eye I watch Roman.
Saying goodbye to his brother clearly wasn’t easy for him, especially after seeing how badly Pasha didn’t want to go.
“You okay?” I ask, setting my hand on his leg.