She looked at the phone she held, and then over at his. “Does that trouble involve a certain friend staying at a certain place I work at?” He took too long to respond, so she knew it did. “Just drive me there.”
“What?”
Andi shook her phone at him. “Work just called. They’re offering double time, and there’s still seven hours left tonight.”
“I just gave you ten thousand dollars this morning.”
“Some of that is spoken for, which you already know.”
He sliced through the air with his hand. “No, I’m calling you a cab—”
“Which I’m going to tell to take me to work then.” She picked up her clutch. “I’ve got spare scrubs in my locker, and I always bring my badge, for opportunities like this.” She flashed him the inside of her wallet, where her badge was like a cop.
“You reek of sex.”
“As do you, but I’ve got bath wipes in my locker because sometimes my job isn’t sanitary. Besides, you have no claim nor say in what I do.”
He growled and lunged back to the door to hit whatever buzzer he’d hit earlier.
“Sorry, sorry!” said Bastian, appearing on the other side of the opening vault door. Bastian blinked at the damage, then swallowed visibly. “Dessert? Nightcap?”
Anger ignited within Andi. This was apparently so normal, it wasn’t even worth commenting upon. How many other women had Damian brought here and then wrecked the room with?
Andi put on her best smile, one honed by years of front-line customer service. “We’re done here. Thank you, it was truly a meal to remember.” And then she strode out into the hall. He could follow her or not.
“Add all of this to my tab,” Damian said behind her, confirming her guess. How could she have been so stupid—to think somehow she was special? She heard him following her as he asked, “Where do you think you’re going?”
Andi quickened her pace, darting through the empty restaurant, needing to put distance between him and her. “Like I said, to work.”
He grabbed her arm just inside the back door of the kitchen. She tried to shake her arm free, but he wouldn’t let go. “Put your coat on,” he commanded.
She gritted her teeth and turned on him, still trying to wrestle from his hold. “Let me guess, it’s for my own good, and you’re not going to tell me why?”
“We’re in a rush,” he said forcefully. “Put on your goddamned coat,” he said in a tone that broached no argument.
Andi dug in her heels. She practically got paid to argue with people at work—she wasn’t going to let herself be bullied now. “Why should I trust you? With anything at all?”
His eyes darkened, and he let her go, stepping back. “You’re right. You shouldn’t.” It sounded like a confession to her.
Andi put on her coat for herself—not him—because it was cold out and her dress was thin. But after that, he reached for her, and though she couldn’t say why, she didn’t move away.
He popped her collar up, then opened the door.
And right outside, someone was waiting—with a camera and a flash. She squeaked when it went off, and Damian propelled her to the passenger side of his car, holding his own coat out to try to protect her, tossing it into his car after her. So much for getting her own damn ride out of here. The flash blinded her three more times before the door closed all the way and it was so disconcerting—she pushed her silk skirt down, hoping she hadn’t accidentally flashed anyone, experiencing a sudden strange sympathy for celebrities.
Damian was cursing under his breath when he got in. He popped the car into reverse. He didn’t look back first, although she heard photographers leaping out of the way. She guessed that when you were a billionaire, you could handle a manslaughter charge.
“Does that happen often?” she asked.
“No.” He wheeled the car around so quickly it made her stomach twinge, and then landed in drive to take off. “Because I never go out.”
She folded her arms. Liar.
“You don’t believe me,” he said.
“Why should it matter to you?”
He ran his fingers through his hair. “Look, the last few times I went to Bastian’s wasn’t with dates. It was with…trouble. We covered it up by leaking some crap about wild parties. The paparazzi know that billionaire bad boy exploits sell ads.”
She twisted to look back the way they’d come. “How did you know?”
“It took too long for them to check in when I rang. They needed to give the photographers time. I doubt it was Bastian personally, but I’ll put him on notice after this.”
Andi kept her arms folded around her, deliberately not looking at him, but it was impossible to forget that he was there. She watched the coin swinging underneath his rearview mirror in silence, wondering if she’d made the right choice yesterday. If she’d let him make her forget everything that had happened, she’d have been at work tonight anyhow without any of the drama, mysteriously richer and dragon-free—and she never would’ve come like that, for him or around him. She felt her thighs getting warm at the memory, her body betraying her still very pissed off mind, and she squirmed.
“Can you turn off the fucking heated seats, please?”
Damian scanned his dashboard. “They’re not on.” Then he jerked his chin at her side of the car. “What’d the hospital tell you?”
“It’s a robocall we get when they want us to come in,” she said in a tone she hoped conveyed how little she wanted to exchange words with him. The sooner she got out of his car, the better.
All her life, Andi had just been an afterthought to her family. According to Auntie Kim, all her older relatives had rejoiced at her mother’s pregnancy: twin sons, which meant double luck on the clan. Danny had come out just the way he was supposed to as the much-hoped-for boy, whereas she’d started life as a disappointment—because no girl could ever rightfully pass on the family name and legacy.
She dared a glance over at Damian and saw him in profile, watching the road intently. It was like she came with a fucking manual, and he’d read it somewhere—maybe in her background check? She snorted, then looked out the window again. Go ahead and treat Andi Ngo like dirt. It’s what she’s used to. Don’t even feel bad about it. No one else ever has.
For the first time in a very, very long time, Damian did not know what to do.
In the restaurant with Andi, he’d just wanted to answer her challenge with his own, to prove to her that whatever she thought she could offer him he could take that and double it—and a dark part of him had wanted to ruin her for others, taking all of her for him.
But fucking her had been too perfect. She fit him like a glove, and he fit her like a key, and if he thought about it for too long now, he’d definitely get a hard-on again. Goddamn. Without ever having had it before, he knew they’d had the kind of sex that made men’s heart’s soft, with a pull so strong it could yank an arrow from its path.
But he was a dragon. And he had people to worry about—not to mention civilians. His life was not his own.
So, he’d hurt her. Like an asshole. Intentionally fulfilling every fear he thought would trigger her from her file. He’d watched his words wash over her and he’d known the whole time he’d said them just how bad they’d make her feel and now she was curled up like a comma in the car beside him.