Neil (The Uncompromising Series Book 2) (26 page)

We rode the elevator down to the garage in silence and I couldn’t begin to imagine what he was thinking. He held a hand up when the doors opened and after a quick glance, he nodded for me to follow.

Feeling like a leashed dog, I kept my designated distance and we bypassed the truck he’d parked the bike in front of last night and walked to a Jaguar XJR parked two spots over. It was huge and new and probably more expensive than five years’ worth of my earnings at the strip club. Viking opened the passenger door and as my ass slid across butter-soft leather, all I could think was the ridiculously expensive car said more about him than anything he’d told me about himself. Viking didn’t compromise. Ever.

We rode to the restaurant in silence and Viking pulled up front and got out before the valet could get to his door. He moved around the front of vehicle, but unlike in the garage or the drive here, he didn’t glance around. It was almost as if he wanted to appear like he wasn’t looking.

He opened my door and his eyes zeroed in on my mine but he didn’t offer a hand to help me. In fact, he hadn’t touched me at all since he’d finger-fucked me like a cheap whore. The valet standing behind him looked as nervous as I felt.

I glanced at his impeccable charcoal-gray suit. Dark blue shirt, no tie, his shoes looking like they were bought this afternoon, he was cover model gorgeous. Worse, he acted like he didn’t give a damn. I smoothed my hands over my red lace dress and wondered if it was a bad choice. Fuck it, it was too late now. I swung both legs out and stood with a grace that’d taken me years to perfect. “Valet? How normal of you.”

He shut the door but didn’t comment. With a nod at the valet, he walked to the entrance of the restaurant I couldn’t afford and held the door.

I waltzed in and the hostess looked over my shoulder and smiled at Viking. “Good evening, Mr. Christensen. Nice to see you again. I have your table ready.”

“Thank you, Clara,” he quietly replied.

The hostess blushed and my bravado faltered. Not only was she pretty in a way I’d never be, her dress was designer. Even in the most expensive outfit I owned, I didn’t fit in with Viking’s world.

“Right this way.” Clara turned and Viking held his hand out like I should follow her first.

I stared at the hostess’s perfectly tight ass and small hips as she led us to a booth in the back and wondered for the hundredth time how the hell I’d attracted Viking’s attention in the first place.

“Enjoy your evening.” Her half-a-second glance in my direction was friendly enough but the instant dismissal spoke for itself.

Fighting to contain the scowl on my face, I slid into the booth and waited until Viking lowered his massive frame and settled a solid two feet away from me. “So McDonalds wasn’t taking reservations tonight?”

“You are nervous.” He folded his hands and placed them on the table.

“Besides the obvious, why did you bring me here?”

“To eat.”

“There are hundreds of restaurants in Miami.”

He studied me a moment and I fought to keep from squirming. “I like this one.”

“I don’t belong here.”

“Why?”

Was he kidding? “Do you see any other strippers here?”

“I am not concerned with convention.”

What the hell did that mean? “Good for you.” I reached for the menu but he took it out of my hands.

“I will order.”

“Shocker.” I crossed my arms and a waiter appeared.

“Mr. Christensen, nice of you to join us again.” The elderly waiter glanced at me and tried not to look at my tits. “You have a lovely date with you this evening.”

Neil briskly recited an order complete with wine. I’d say he was irritated but his expression never changed, so who knew what the hell he was thinking.

The waiter cocked his head and frowned. “I would recommend a red with that.”

“She does not drink red.”

“Of course.” The waiter retreated.

I stared at Viking. “How do you know that?”

“I asked.” Like he said everything else, he stated the answer. No intonation, no apology, no emotion.

“Who did you ask?” And why?

“White wine, Diet Coke, frozen meals, tropical fruit, milk, graham crackers and yellow rice.” He rattled off the items, giving me not only the answer to a different question but my usual shopping list.

I stilled, alarm raising the hair on the back of my neck. Who would know that except… “How the hell do you know what I buy at the supermarket? Were you stalking me before all of this?”

“I do not stalk. If I am interested in a woman, I learn her preferences.”

Interested? Is that what this was? “Was that before or after I was kidnapped?”

“Before.”

“So you asked my ex what I buy at the grocery store?” It was so fucked-up on so many levels, I didn’t even have an emotion to fit that level of crazy.

“No, I asked the cashier at the grocery store around the corner from your apartment when I bought you groceries last week.”

He bought me groceries?
The shame was instant. “I want to leave.” Fuck his plan to lure out Candle.

He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Answer one question then we will leave if that is what you still want.”

“How about
you
answer a question? You said I was important to you then you said no attachments. You said you wouldn’t have asked me on a date, yet here we are, at a restaurant, after you’ve fucked me and gotten so deep in my problems that you were almost hanged. You can’t wake up next to me but you’ll piss all over some guy who brings me clothes? What the hell kind of no attachment
is that
?” I thought I had him. I thought I’d finally turned the tables on him. But I hadn’t even come close.

“The sexual kind. Are you ready to answer my question?”

Jesus, I was a fucking idiot for even asking. To his credit, he didn’t mock me, he simply stated the answer. “What’s your question?” I asked, weary.

“What do you know about me?”

Was this a trick question? He knew I didn’t remember him. “You’re a contractor and you’re loaded.”

“And how did you come about this information?”

“That’s two questions.”

His penetrating stare was my only response.

I exhaled. “I asked.”

“You asked. You learned.” He leaned back as if he’d proven his point and the waiter appeared with the wine.

Holding the bottle out, label up, the waiter looked at Neil.

Ignoring him, Neil gave me a choice. “Your decision.”

Shit. I was starving and I’d never get another chance to try this restaurant, that was, if Candle didn’t show up and fuck everything all to hell. Not to mention, Viking had a point. I leaned back in my seat and Neil nodded at the waiter.

Instead of tasting the wine when the waiter poured some in Neil’s glass, he inclined his head to me and the waiter smiled as he poured my glass then set the bottle on the table and left.

“You’re not having any?”

“No.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“Then why did you get a whole bottle?”

He read a text then placed his cell on the table. “Try the wine.”

Christ. “Do you ever answer a direct question?”

“Try it.”

I refrained from giving him attitude and took a sip. Crisp, tart fruit exploded on my palate and I took a large gulp. “It’s decent.” It was the best wine I ever remembered tasting.

The corner of his mouth twitched and if I didn’t know better, I’d swear I just saw his shoulders relax. “I know.”

“Then why ask?” I drank a quarter of the glass in one breath to calm my nerves.

“Are you testing my credibility or wine knowledge?”

“Does it matter? It’s not like you’re going to answer either way.”

A slight line appeared between his eyebrows. “I do not withhold information from you.”

“Uh-huh.” I twirled the glass only to stop myself from chugging it down. Two twirls and I figured I’d shown enough restraint. I polished off the glass. “So…” I set the glass down. “What do you want to talk about?” I glanced around the restaurant. Yeah, no strippers in this crowd.

Viking inclined his head at my glass. “Was that to prove a point or do you have a problem?”

Heat rose in my cheeks and I studied my empty glass. “You know, you have a way of making people feel like shit.”

“People or you?”

What a jerk. He knew I was uncomfortable here. “Going out on a limb here but I’m gonna go with people.” I was sure I wasn’t the first person to be insulted by him.

Casual, like he hadn’t just accused me of being an alcoholic, he refilled my wine glass. “I am not responsible for what people think.”

I took the glass and drank because why the hell not? “Does that work for you? The whole no accountability thing?”

His phone vibrated with a new text and he glanced at it.

“Is he here?” I asked nervously.

“No.” He focused back on me. “Who said I am not accountable?”

I didn’t have enough alcohol in my system to deal with this shit. I shifted in my seat and thrust my tits out. “Do you like my dress?” Two could play this game.

His eyes didn’t even hint at moving south. “You do not strike me as someone who needs reassurance.”

About my looks? I didn’t. But about my bank account? In here? I knew who I was and it wasn’t someone who threw away money. “It’s cheap as shit. It’s years old and from a clearance rack at a discount store. And my shoes?” I rubbed his leg under the table with the toe of my shoe just to see what he’d do. “They’re not designer. Know why?”

He didn’t move but for the first time all night, something shifted in his expression. “You are a single mother.”

“So that makes me poor? Thrifty? Able to prioritize?”

He didn’t answer.

I drank more wine. “Let me help you out. It’s all of the above, but mostly, it’s because I don’t see the value in a thousand-dollar dress.” I glanced around the restaurant. “Or a five-hundred-dollar meal. It doesn’t impress me.” But being alive did. Funny how getting kidnapped would do that to you.

With his eyes on mine like he had complete control of this whole conversation, his massive hand reached for his water. Slow and calculated, he ran his fingers the entire length of the glass before he picked it up.

He was good, I’d give him that. He knew exactly what he was doing. My mind strayed to what I knew those fingers were capable of and when his lips touched the glass, it got hot as hell in the restaurant. His Adam’s apple moved with his swallow and I hated that his simple movement had become my new version of porn.

He set his glass down but casually left his arm on the table. “I grew up in a rural area.”

I fought to keep from looking surprised. “You’re sharing personal information?”

“Yes.”

I glanced at the calluses on his hands, knowing how they felt dragging up my thighs. “Miami, born and raised. But you probably already know that.”

“We hunted for the winter,” he continued, ignoring my jab. “Fished in the summer.” His gaze drifted. “It was a simple life.”

“From humble beginnings to Armani.” I guessed the only men’s suit brand I knew.

“Brioni,” he corrected, glancing at me with disapproval.

“Of course.” I didn’t know Brioni from Barney—the purple stuffed Barney—and before today, I’d never cared about my ignorance. Proving my enormous restraint, I only drank three more sips of the wine.

“I appreciate the cut of a custom-tailored suit.”

“I appreciate the state-funded walk-in clinic in my neighborhood and not having car payments,” I countered.

“You have a smart mouth for a female.”

“
Female
. Wow. Impressive comeback, but we both know we’re not here on a date, so what the hell does it matter who I am?”

Swift and sure, his hand caught my nape and pulled till I was leaned into him and his breath was touching my ear. “The woman I want to fuck matters.” His words rolled off his tongue like liquid sex and chill bumps raced up my spine.

Half a second later, I was back upright. My neck cold with the absence of his touch, shivers shooting straight to my pussy, I sat stunned as two waiters appeared and set steaming plates in front of us.

My breath caught in my throat and I stared at the hard black shells swimming in liquid. I fought the single sentence that made me want this man more than any man I’d ever wanted from replaying in my mind and lost.

“Mussels,” I squeaked out.

Viking took his eyes off me long enough to glance at my plate. “Is there a problem?”

“Shellfish. Allergic.” I couldn’t even form a complete sentence.

He held his hand up, the waiter appeared, and our plates were whisked away. Neil issued a string of commands at him but I couldn’t concentrate on a single fucking word of it. All I was thinking about was crawling on his lap and having his big hands all over my ass.

Viking glanced at me. “What else are you allergic to?” Clipped and angry, he barked the question.

“Nothing.” Except him. And his hands. And his voice, and probably the sight of him naked. His tone should’ve been a warning but I was too turned on to be scared.

He waited till the waiter left then he glared at me. Fury stole the rugged features from his face and replaced them with hard, uncompromising lines. “Why did you not say something when I ordered?”

I picked up my wine with a shaking hand. I hadn’t understood half of what he was saying when he ordered. The names of the fancy foods may as well have been a foreign language, but I wasn’t going to say that. “You didn’t ask.”

He grasped the top of the glass and plucked it from my hand. “Do
not
do that again.”

“Do what?” Okay, maybe I didn’t want to crawl on his lap. Maybe I wanted to make a run for the nearest exit.

“Withhold information.”

I swallowed, knowing what I had to do. “I’m not fucking you again.” Breathless and throaty, my traitorous voice was too sultry to pack any kind of a punch. I may as well have been telling him to rip my clothes off.

He inhaled. Three tense seconds passed then his voice turned calm. “I am not asking.”

Regret soured my stomach and I forced a response. “Good.”

He stared at me with singular determination. “I am telling. I will fuck you again.”