Not at me.
Not at the lavish hotel.
Not at the entrance where the hotel’s doormen stood at attention, ready to usher her into a world of private luxury.
No.
Rae looked at him.
And I saw the moment she realized.
Thatshehad control.
Thatshehad the power.
That no one—not me, not this driver, not any man in this city—could make the choice for her.
She could walk into that hotel with me.
Or she could step away, get back into that car, and leave.
She could hold me captive in uncertainty, force me to chase her down, convince her, plead if I had to.
Hmmm. My sweet American girl.
My stomach tightened.
Would she leave right now?
Would she make me hunt her down tomorrow, drag her to my bed, and ruin any plans she thought she had?
A slow, knowing smile curled on her lips. “Thank you for offering to wait, Dalvin. I appreciate that.”
I pursed my lips.
He let out a relieved sigh. "Of course. I would do. . .anythingfor you."
Careful.
However, she stepped closer to me.
Oh.
I felt it before she even spoke.
The weight of her decision.
Her voice was sultry, filled with promise. “But I won’t be needing a ride from you tomorrow. I’ll use Fabien’s driver.”
The relief.
The triumph.
The sheer victory that surged through me—it was almost too much.
I grinned.
The driver gave a small, respectful nod, averting his gaze as if he already knew what was coming next.
