I feel my eyebrows shoot up into my hairline. “She’s your landlord? Jesus, talk about shitting where you eat.” And I’m sure he’s feasted at her table more than once. My stomach drops at the sickening thought.
“If you’re determined to fight with me tonight, then maybe I should turn the car around and take you home.”
I laugh, because I’m too pissed off for words. Crossing my arms over my breasts, I stare blankly out the window. “That’s great. You do that.”
I wait for him to give the instructions to the driver, but Rebel falls silent as death. Time seems to pass at a sluggish pace, and the tension in the air surrounding us only grows thicker with each passing second.
I want out of this car. The curiosity and excitement responsible for getting me in it with him in the first place has been replaced with animosity and a serious need to be alone. Rebel is not my favorite person right now. Far from it, actually.
“Do you know the difference between you and me?” Rebel asks, his voice a low, thick rumble.
I don’t bother answering him because I know he’ll tell me anyway.
“I don’t give up that easily.”
Rolling my eyes, I reply in a defeated tone, “Just take me home, Rebel. I’m not in the mood to play your games.”
“I agree. I’m not in the mood to play games either. So I’ll tell you what I’m going to do.” Inching closer, Rebel seats himself directly across from me. From my peripherals, I can see him watching me. “I’m going to take you to this exclusive shop I know and I’m going to buy you a dress. You’re going to wear it to accompany me to dinner, where you’ll put on an award winning smile while I introduce you to some colleagues. Then, I’m going to take you home and fuck you blind and we’re going to forget this tiff ever happened.”
“You’re a real piece of work, Rebel,” I say through a huff of laughter. “I can’t believe you think I would do anything you want right now.”
“I believe it because I know you.”
My head whipping around, I level him with an icy glare. “Listen close, Rebel. I’ve said this once and this is the last time I’ll say it. You don’t know shit about me. I’m not your little pet, I’m not a toy, and I will bite the hand that feeds me, especially when it belongs to an overconfident pig like you.”
The bastard has the nerve to smile as I say this. My hand twitches in my lap, itching to reach out and smack him.
“There’s my saucy little vixen,” Rebel purrs, and the look he gives me is so dark and sexy, my stomach flips. His hand delves between his thighs and begins stroking his hard length through his trousers. “Why don’t you come over here and let me help relieve you of some of that aggression?”
“Ah! You’re so infuriating!” Shifting in my seat, I bang on the partition. Moments pass without answer, and I pound my fist on it again.
“You’re wasting your energy. Gerardo answers only to me.”
“So I’m your prisoner now? What do you think you’re going to do, Rebel? Drive around the city until Stockholm’s sets in?”
“If that’s what it takes,” he says casually, completely unaffected.
Outraged, I open my mouth and release a bloodcurdling scream that leaves my ears ringing. Yet, still, Rebel rests easy, staring at me through that eternally cool façade. “Fuck you, Rebel,” I snarl. “Just fuck you. Take me home, right fucking now, or I swear I’ll throw myself out of this car.”
Rebel is across the seat and has me in his arms before I can blink. He takes me by the shoulders and turns me to face him. “You listen to me, Josephine,” he growls. “As much as I enjoy it when you’re feisty, I’m finished with this stubborn, dramatic bullshit. So shut your mouth and listen up.
“I went to a lot of trouble setting this evening up, and I’ll be damned if it’s going to be ruined by baseless conjecture. I’m calling the shots tonight. You’ll do what I say and follow my lead. Whatever you want to fight about, save it for later. Are we clear?”
Admittedly, Rebel is a little scary when he gets like this. The unrelenting look in his eyes leaves no room for argument. He’s determined to get his way and he’s willing to hold me hostage to do it.
Knowing the only danger he poses is to my sanity, I decide it’s probably best to play along. Rebel wants me on his arm. He wants to show me off to a roomful of coworkers. Fine by me because, it occurs to me that in this instance, being complacent is working in my favor. I have a good feeling that a certain redhead will be in attendance and I intend to use this opportunity to my advantage.
Rebel’s taking me into the heart of the lion’s den, only I intend to be the lioness…and I’m out for blood.
Smoothing my features out, I meet his waiting gaze and tell him, “Crystal.”
FIFTEEN
“Thank you for the dress,” I mutter, reluctant to give him even that much.
The exclusive shop Rebel took me to wasn’t fancy in the way that I had expected for a man who hinted at being well-off. It was more of a well-kept secret that amounted to a hole in the wall and makes me wonder how he knew about it and how many women he brought here before me. Inside there was exposed brick and racks upon racks of high-end designer clothing that cost way too much.
Giving me free reign was his first mistake. Feeling vindictive, I told the sales lady I was looking for the most expensive piece she had that would fit my frame. That’s how I ended up wearing this overpriced, fire engine red pure silk gown with a bodice embellished with hundreds of tiny, glittering crystals.
Not only does it make me feel like a princess, I also feel like the sexiest bitch to walk into this stuffy, over decorated, pretentious party.
Yes, I am in a downright sassy, hellacious mood. Do I care? Hell no. Rebel dragged me here against my will and I plan on making this night very memorable for him.
We enter the ballroom through an ornately carved gilded set of doors bookended by two lean and good looking men dressed in their finest suits. Rebel gives them his name and one of them checks his list, then we set off into the main hall.
The place is gorgeous, of course—money buys nice things. Divided into three sections—a dining area, dance floor, and stage—the room is enormous. The tables are rounded, large enough to seat twelve, draped in rich gold fabric and topped with stunning bouquets of red roses. Crystal chandeliers drip from the ceiling, candles flicker from wall-mounted sconces, and a string band plays an endless symphony of music that is touchingly beautiful.
It reminds me of masquerade balls and lavish weddings. I love it. Every inch of the space is a feast for the senses. But I’ll never let Rebel know that.
Rebel’s jaw is set as he casts his gaze around the room. To me he says privately, “I saw that look in your eyes when we got out of the car. You’re on notice. Behave tonight, Josephine. Don’t make me regret this.”
I paste on a pretty smile that feels too tight and tuck my hand into the crook of his proffered arm. “I’m hurt,” I say with a pout. “Where’s the trust?”
His chest rises and falls heavily. Wordlessly pinning my arm to his side, Rebel guides us onto the floor, expertly weaving through the milling bodies.
Our first stop brings us to an older couple I peg to be in their early fifties. The man is portly with a double chin and ruddy cheeks. His balding head glistens in the low light, and a fine sheen of sweat dampens his brow. The woman at his side, however, is stately and beautiful. Her makeup is expertly done, her graying hair twisted up off her neck in a classic style, and her body is toned and slim beneath her knee-length Jackie Kennedy inspired sleeveless cream dress.
“Mr. and Mrs. Donnelly. How are you this evening?” Rebel’s charm is cranked up to high, his smile stretching across his handsome face as he extends his hand to shake with Mr. Donnelly.