visit today? It is our anniversary, you know.”
The squat woman smiles up at me, and I shoot back a placating grin, with as much charm as I can muster right now. “Scarlett, you didn’t tell me you were dating Salvatore !”
And the smile falls right the fuck off my face. I can’t go anywhere in this damn city without being recognized.
Satisfaction spreads across Scarlett’s face as she looks up at me with a grin. “Salvatore,” she says, her voice saccharine sweet.
“How long have you two been together?” the woman asks, her eyes flicking between Scarlett and me, almost in disbelief.
“Coming up to five minutes now,” Scarlett replies casually.
The woman shakes her head. “When I saw you come in, I thought for sure you were one of those stronzo cab drivers using our toilet to take a dump.”
“Oh, he did,” Scarlett says, deadpan even with a gun pressed against her right tit. Fascinating. “He’s got violent diarrhea. He just destroyed one of the bathroom stalls.”
Well, I don’t know what to say to that . “We need to go.” I pull Scarlett firmly past her boss. “Scar forgot her crazy pills this morning. She might be back in tomorrow.”
“What? You’re working a double today!” the woman screeches, but I ignore her, kicking the heavy glass door open and escaping into the stream of people clogging the sidewalk.
We need a cab. We need a cab right fucking now.
“Where are we going?” Scarlett asks.
I pull her over to the street and hail down a cab. “For a drive.”
“Where?”
“Just get into the damn cab,” I say, releasing my stronghold on her long enough to shove her into the backseat of the waiting cab before sliding in behind her.
The driver starts heading up the busy street. “Where to?” he calls through the small slot in the Plexiglas.
“Just keep heading up here,” I say. “Head to Bleecker.” If the bitch won’t tell me where she’s hiding Kaitlin, she’s coming home with me until I can break her resolve. I groan inwardly. I really, really can’t be bothered torturing someone today. It’s Friday, I’m hung over as fuck, and there’s a very real possibility that there’s still a naked woman in my bed at home.
“You’re sweating on me,” she remarks, wriggling away on the plastic-covered bench seat. I tut, pulling her even closer. Has she got a problem with sweat? I mean, it’s not pouring off me—I’m just perspiring a little underneath all these clothes. “It’s summer, baby. We all sweat. I bet you’re sweating right now under that sack you call a dress. And if you’re not,” I give her a sidelong grin, “we can certainly fix that.”
God, I’d like to get her hot and sweaty.
“Don’t call me baby,” she says, clearly unimpressed. “I’m not your baby.”
“Sorry, Petunia .” I roll my eyes, snickering. I look up ahead, my phone vibrating in my suit pocket, the Game of Thrones theme song sounding obnoxiously through the cab. It’s been ringing on and off since we first got into the cab.
“Aren’t you going to get that?” Scarlett asks.
I smile condescendingly. “The only way I’m taking my attention off you is if you’re face down in my lap with your mouth open, and somehow I think we should wait until our fifteen-minute anniversary for that.”
Bitch doesn’t even bristle. “You know, you could just silence it before I shoot myself in the face over here.”
I shrug incredulously. “It’s the Game of Thrones theme music. Who doesn’t like Game of Thrones ?”
She stares at me angrily, and it suddenly slams home.
“I didn’t fuck you at all,” I exclaim. She’s not one of those broads I wined, dined and sixty-nined before kicking out of my house. She’s Scarlett fucking Winchester.
“You wish,” she mutters under her breath. I’d normally snap off a witty retort, but she’s Scarlett fucking Winchester.
“You’re that chick out of that show!” I say excitedly. I don’t add the fact that I’ve
The squat woman smiles up at me, and I shoot back a placating grin, with as much charm as I can muster right now. “Scarlett, you didn’t tell me you were dating Salvatore !”
And the smile falls right the fuck off my face. I can’t go anywhere in this damn city without being recognized.
Satisfaction spreads across Scarlett’s face as she looks up at me with a grin. “Salvatore,” she says, her voice saccharine sweet.
“How long have you two been together?” the woman asks, her eyes flicking between Scarlett and me, almost in disbelief.
“Coming up to five minutes now,” Scarlett replies casually.
The woman shakes her head. “When I saw you come in, I thought for sure you were one of those stronzo cab drivers using our toilet to take a dump.”
“Oh, he did,” Scarlett says, deadpan even with a gun pressed against her right tit. Fascinating. “He’s got violent diarrhea. He just destroyed one of the bathroom stalls.”
Well, I don’t know what to say to that . “We need to go.” I pull Scarlett firmly past her boss. “Scar forgot her crazy pills this morning. She might be back in tomorrow.”
“What? You’re working a double today!” the woman screeches, but I ignore her, kicking the heavy glass door open and escaping into the stream of people clogging the sidewalk.
We need a cab. We need a cab right fucking now.
“Where are we going?” Scarlett asks.
I pull her over to the street and hail down a cab. “For a drive.”
“Where?”
“Just get into the damn cab,” I say, releasing my stronghold on her long enough to shove her into the backseat of the waiting cab before sliding in behind her.
The driver starts heading up the busy street. “Where to?” he calls through the small slot in the Plexiglas.
“Just keep heading up here,” I say. “Head to Bleecker.” If the bitch won’t tell me where she’s hiding Kaitlin, she’s coming home with me until I can break her resolve. I groan inwardly. I really, really can’t be bothered torturing someone today. It’s Friday, I’m hung over as fuck, and there’s a very real possibility that there’s still a naked woman in my bed at home.
“You’re sweating on me,” she remarks, wriggling away on the plastic-covered bench seat. I tut, pulling her even closer. Has she got a problem with sweat? I mean, it’s not pouring off me—I’m just perspiring a little underneath all these clothes. “It’s summer, baby. We all sweat. I bet you’re sweating right now under that sack you call a dress. And if you’re not,” I give her a sidelong grin, “we can certainly fix that.”
God, I’d like to get her hot and sweaty.
“Don’t call me baby,” she says, clearly unimpressed. “I’m not your baby.”
“Sorry, Petunia .” I roll my eyes, snickering. I look up ahead, my phone vibrating in my suit pocket, the Game of Thrones theme song sounding obnoxiously through the cab. It’s been ringing on and off since we first got into the cab.
“Aren’t you going to get that?” Scarlett asks.
I smile condescendingly. “The only way I’m taking my attention off you is if you’re face down in my lap with your mouth open, and somehow I think we should wait until our fifteen-minute anniversary for that.”
Bitch doesn’t even bristle. “You know, you could just silence it before I shoot myself in the face over here.”
I shrug incredulously. “It’s the Game of Thrones theme music. Who doesn’t like Game of Thrones ?”
She stares at me angrily, and it suddenly slams home.
“I didn’t fuck you at all,” I exclaim. She’s not one of those broads I wined, dined and sixty-nined before kicking out of my house. She’s Scarlett fucking Winchester.
“You wish,” she mutters under her breath. I’d normally snap off a witty retort, but she’s Scarlett fucking Winchester.
“You’re that chick out of that show!” I say excitedly. I don’t add the fact that I’ve
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