Page 36 of Ruthless Dream

My lips twitch. “Are they?”

“My car. My rules. And I’ve decided I never want to hear an Irish accent again.”

I kiss her forehead, ignoring how she stills. She jerks when I slap her arse.

“Fine.” I’ll put up with her ridiculous rules because I find it more amusing than anything else. Until we get downstairs.

There’s a black SUV at the curb, but Adeline heads toward a car parked behind it. A bodyguard opens the door for her, and I stop, a laugh tearing from me.

“There’s no fucking way.”

“What?” She pauses, clutching her coat closed, hiding her dress.

“This is your fucking car?”

It’s a black vintage sports car. An Aston Martin, for fuck’s sake.

“This is my fucking car,” Adeline says. I’ve heard her fear, her annoyance, and her dry, sarcastic tones. This time she speaks with a clear certainty that has me blinking.

She thanks the guard, who heads back to the black SUV. I ignore the bald man’s cold gaze as he passes by.

“You drive this car?” I’d seen it posted on her social media, but it’s different seeing her treat the car with reverence.

“Remember the rules.” Adeline shuts her door, clicking her seatbelt in place. The perfect doll turns on the engine, not bothered at all about wrinkling her dress.

I buckle my seatbelt, stretching my legs as best I can in the sports car. “What?” I ask a minute later, when we’re still idling at the curb.

Her eyes are narrowed on me. “I thought you’d argue more about me driving.”

“What and give in to the gender stereotypes that only men should drive their girls around?” I pick an invisible piece of lint off my suit. “I’ll be your kept man, if that’s what you want, Adeline Marie.”

She shifts gears, smoothly pulling away from the curb. “Someday I’m going to kill you, Ciaran.”

My laugh fills the car. Even close to eight at night, traffic is at a standstill. Adeline fidgets with the radio, turning channels. She merges easily and at one point makes a face at another car on the road. She’s the calmest I’ve ever seen her, though

But when brake lights illuminate us, I catch the weariness falling around her shoulders. “School go all right this week?” I ask quietly.

“It was fine,” she murmurs back, her gaze on the cars in front of her. We’re quiet the rest of the ride.

CHAPTER 9

Adeline

Inormally love any excuse to dress up.

I had to FaceTime Lennie and ask her to go through my closet. I brought plenty of options to NYU, but I lacked floor-length ballgowns. When she came across this one, I figured, fuck it. The dress is hot, and I need a win.

Lennie brought it into the city on her way to work, and we grabbed dinner.

“You okay?” she asked in that typical thoughtful manner of hers.

“Great.” I babbled about Billie, whom I tend to see in the library.

“And your roommates?” she asked.

“Good.”

“You know,” she said at the end of dinner, “it’s normal to be stressed during your first semester. It’s all a learning curve.”