"You are not a judge, or a lawyer, for that matter." I scowl.
He glances up and down the street. And goddamn, in profile, he resembles Keanu even more. "Are you waiting for the bus fromSpeed?" I venture.
"What?" He shoots me a sideways glance.
"The bus fromSpeed? When Sandra Bullock drives the bus with Keanu Reeves next to her and the bus has no brakes and—"
The screech of brakes being applied reaches us as a car careens to a stop in front of us. Not just any car; his SUV. The door to the driver’s seat opens, and a man in a valet uniform jumps out. Seb slaps a note into his outstretched palm then pushes me into the seat.
"Hey," I protest.
He slides into the car after me, and I scooch over to the passenger’s seat. "Could have, at least, allowed me to come around to my side of the car," I grumble.
He slams the door shut and eases the car onto the road.
"So, we're really doing this? We're going to City Hall at—" I peer at the clock on the dashboard. "Eleven p.m. at night."
He glowers at the road ahead, and I take it as his assent.
"Are you going to tell me why? Or should I continue making wild guesses, which I promise you is going to drive you mad. If you thought I was insufferable earlier, you haven’t seen me when I’m stressed. Also, as if this were not already obvious, I’m not going to stop talking until you tell me why you’re dragging me to City Hall so late at night. I—"
"We’re getting married."
23
Seb
I expect her to freak out, but instead, she purses her lips and glowers at me. Probably because she’d already guessed why we’re headed there. No other reason to go to City Hall, after all. She opens and shuts her mouth a few times. Then, "You’re insane," she says in a low voice.
Only where you’re concerned.
"We were supposed to get married in a week, and you didn’t want to get married at church, so—" I raise a shoulder. "This way, we can cut to the chase."
She continues to stare at me for a few seconds more, then she glances down at herself. "I’m not dressed for any kind of a wedding."
It wouldn’t matter if you were wearing a sack, you’d still look beautiful.
"You’re wearing my clothes." A flush of satisfaction fills my chest. Goddam. Since when did I become so possessive about her? It’s bad enough I completely lost control when I saw that man toy with her hair. The fact she was tied up—that she'd allowed him to tie her up, that she would allow anyone other than me to tie her up…Cazzo!A growl rumbles up my chest. I lost my mind, I admit. I hadn’t intended to fuck her with my gun.Gesù Cristo, what the hell is wrong with me? How could I have done that? I pulled out the gun to scare off that motherfucker, and I ended up using it to pleasure her. At least, I hope it pleasured her. From her reaction, it certainly seemed that way. I wanted to punish her for how she provoked me, and finding her bound and at my mercy made me lose my head completely.
"Are you okay?" I finally ask.
When she doesn’t answer, I glance sideways at her. "Princess, I asked you a question."
She draws in a breath. "Why, are you worried you emotionally scarred me? You don’t have to worry; my ex managed to do that just fine."
Anger thuds at my temples. I squeeze the steering wheel, and brake for a red light. The road is empty of traffic. A lone piece of paper blows by in front of us.
"You follow traffic rules, even when there is no real need to," she comments in an offhand voice.
"I am Mafia; I’m always watched by law enforcement. One slip up on my part, and there’s no telling where it’d land me. Not that we don't have the cops on the payroll, but I find it best to save my influence for when I need to use it. That way, it's more effective."
The light changes, and I ease the car forward.
"You didn’t answer my earlier question."
"I’m fine." She shrugs.
"I’d be lying if I said I’m sorry for what I did. I was fully conscious, and in complete control of all of my faculties when I fucked you with my gun."