“Rebecca?”
I turned to see him studying me closely. He bit his lip, as if he was debating something. A second later, he eased the champagne flute from my hand and set it on the balcony. I stared with frozen curiosity as he slid his hands up my wrists and leaned in to whisper in my ear...
“I have a proposition for you.”
Chapter 7
“You’re propositioning me like a hooker?” I shouted. I was livid and kicked him in the balls. “I might not be rich or belong here, but that’s no reason to treat me like a prostitute!”
“That’s not what I meant!” he gasped.
I ran, Marcus hot on my trail—wincing occasionally and doubling over in pain. I felt like Cinderella running home from the ball. It was time to change back into my rags.
“Rebecca, please—you didn’t even give me the chance to say anything! Hear me out!”
“Get away from me!” I sped up, bypassing a pair of entangled Jamaican love birds and yanking open the door to the first limo I could find.
“Rebecca—”
The driver jumped and twisted around, eyeing me like maybe I was drunk. “Hey, lady, this isn’t your car.”
“Look,” I panted, “I guarantee your keepers are still in there getting shitfaced. Can you do me a solid favor and drop me off at the Taco Bell at the base of the hill?”
His eyes went from me—shivering in my dress, to Marcus—gasping in his disheveled tuxedo as he ran up behind me. His chin jutted up as the muscles in his chest swelled.
“Yeah, girl, I got you.”
“You’re a gem.”
I jumped inside and slammed the door shut just as Marcus reached me. He put his hands on the windows and leaned onto the car as his hair spilled messily into his face.
“Rebecca, that’s not what I meant at all. Just give me a chance to explain.”
I rolled down the window a fraction of an inch. “I don’t give a damn what you meant, and I don’t give a damn what you’re used to getting from people. I’m not that kind of girl.”
He hit the side of the car in frustration. “Would you just listen to—”
“You best step away from the car, son.” My driver rose slowly from his seat and stepped out of the limo, biceps bursting out the arms of his suit as he eyed Marcus dangerously. “The lady asked you to leave. We wouldn’t want somebody to get real fucked up, now would we?”
Still panting from our sprint, Marcus threw up his hands and took an exaggerated step away. It looked like his retreat was mostly rooted in exasperation, but the fact that my driver was coming up on seven feet couldn’t have hurt either.
“S’what I thought.” The driver smirked and slid back into the car, gunning the engine as I rolled down my window triumphantly and gestured at Marcus’ pants.
“You should really ice that, by the way.”
We roared away from the curb in a cloud of dust, high on success. But by the time we rounded the wide lawn and proceeded down the hill, the high was already wearing off, and we stared at each other curiously through the open partition.
“So, if you don’t mind me asking...where’s your actual ride?” he asked.
I looped the straps of my heels around my wrist and tugged off my earrings as the night officially came to a close. “I left it for my roommate. And she has the keys in her purse. I can’t leave her here stranded with no way home. And I don’t want to come back later to pick her up. Because I don’t want to run into Marcus Taylor. Believe it or not, I was sent by a talent agency with my friend to ‘make a good impression.’ Whatever that means.”
He glanced back at Marcus’ vanishing form in the rear view mirror. “Well, he’s the host, isn’t he? You’ve definitely left a lasting impression.”
I snorted at his pragmatism. “Yeah, probably.”
We drove the rest of the way in silence until he pulled into a corner of the fast food parking lot to let me out. “You gonna be okay here?” He glanced up the quiet street.
“Yeah, I’ll call a cab.”