Page 25 of Savage Promises
“Oh, goody.” I fold myself in half to get inside this death trap, feeling self-conscious about my wide hips in these narrow bucket seats.
Shane closes the door and gets behind the wheel then stares at me.
I glance his way. “Yeah?”
“Kiss me,” he deadpans.
My body heats up. “What?”
He taps his cheek. “Kiss me hello. We’re going to be family.”
I tilt my head not wanting my lips anywhere near his skin. I don’t trust myself not to hop in his lap again. And there’s zero room for me between his bulky girth and that steering wheel this time.
Thank God.
“I’m waiting. I’m going to be your brother-in-law.” His eyes press into a sinister frown. “Don’t make me ask you again, Lennox.”
“You’re serious?” I’m floored.
“Would you rather be on your knees—”
“What?”
“Would you rather be on your knees kissing something else?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“What?”
“I mean... Kissing what?”
“My ring.” He smirks, knowing he caught me. “I am third-in-command of Quinlan Empire. You... Your family. I’m your...liege.”
“And you want to be worshipped?”
“Honored.” He brings his face close to mine and tilts his head.
Having no choice, I lay a soft peck on his cheek that’s smooth down to a rough stubble for a close-trimmed beard he keeps now.
“Thank you.” He leans back and zips into traffic, handling the car like it was custom-built for him.
On the quiet drive, Astoria blurs past my window and soon we’re on a bridge heading toward Manhattan. This makes me sit up in the soft buttery leather seat. “I thought you made an appointment with the jeweler on Mayfair?”
“I made an appointment somewhere else,” he says, keeping his eyes straight ahead.
I swear I feel the heat of his skin raising the temperature in this car, even though it’s freezing out and he doesn’t have the heat on. I glance at my phone to distract myself and look for the birthday messages that I know won’t be there. Everyone forgets. My father, my brother, Neve... I’ve not heard from anyone today.
EvenRafael! He’s traveling again, and I’m sure he forgot, too.
In the heart of the Diamond District, we pull up in front of a store with a valet. But Shane gets out and opens my door for me. Keeping his hand on the small of my back he tosses his keys to the valet, a man dressed as nicely as him. The valet jogs to Shane’s sleek ride, and the car hums as it disappears down the street.
Shane ushers me inside the jewelry store with gold accents, crystal chandeliers, and velvet cases. This is a place where the staff wear suits more expensive than most people’s rent.
A woman with a pointed blonde bob and a wolfish smile greets us immediately, knocking me from my thoughts about the decor. “Mr. Quinlan, it’s so wonderful you’ve chosen us for your jewelry needs. This must be your beautiful—”
“I’m not the bride,” I blurt out.
“Oh.” The woman blinks. “My apologies. Are you close friends then? I caught a certain chemistry between you immediately.”
