Page 142 of Midnight Curfew
“He’s not right for you,” he explains.
Says the man who really knows how to treat people. Please.
I pull out my phone. “He said things to me today you never will.”
And I don’t even look at him for his reaction. I dial Vincent.
“How’s it going?” he asks.
I can hear the rain hitting Milo’s car roof. They must be outside.
“I’m going to stay and get some work done,” I explain. “Sophia’s sleeping on a couch in the teachers’ lounge.”
Finally, I lift my eyes.
“Dallas is somewhere in here,” I say to Vincent, looking at the former. “You know what to do if he comes out.”
Dallas cocks an eyebrow, a smile tilting up the corner of his mouth.
He loves a challenge.
Vincent sighs. “Glad I brought a bottle.”
Hanging up, I slide my hands into my pockets, still holding my phone.
I don’t need them knowing Sophia’s not here. I wouldn’t put it past anyone to not be reporting back to my father, and it needs to look like I’m handling everything.
And they can’t drag Dallas out. He’s not breaking curfew if he’s indoors.
Walking around me, he exits his classroom slowly, and I trail behind.
“I’ll give you a head start,” I announce. “Come on. I’d love to go home and get some sleep.”
If he leaves, they’ll give chase, and I can get out of here sans Sophia, no mishaps being reported back to Garrett Ames.
Dallas keeps walking, down the stairs. “Nothing’s stopping you from going.”
“If I walk out of here without Sophia—”
“She prefers to go by Anna-Katherine.”
“They’ll know she’s not here,” I point out, ignoring him. “And I don’t want to drag everyone over into your shithole tonight. All that mud.”
Dallas pulls off his shirt as he makes a right, toward the gym. “You looked good in mud.”
Sliding my eyes down his spine, I soak in his damp skin and the way his figure gets narrower from his shoulders to his waist. That body has fought me, pinned me, pressed me, laid on me, and thrust into me. It occurs to me how nice it is to look at him. I rarely got a chance when we were younger.
He opens the door to the gym. “Sanoa Bay is the cleanest place you’ve ever been, and you know it.”
I follow him in. “It will be soon.”
I’ll put on a good show, proving I’m one of the men of St. Carmen as I document leverage in the Wolfe Room to secure loyalty and lure all my father’s investors away from him. The Bay will be mine, everyone begging to do business with me, and Dallas Jaeger will find himself at my mercy.
The trick will be not making him so angry that he leaves. I’ll need leverage for that, too.
Tossing his shirt to the ground, he lies down on a weight bench, his feet on the floor as he lifts the barbell above his head.
His arms flex, his chest stretches wide, and his abs constrict, but my gaze almost immediately falls to his groin as it presses against his track pants. I don’t think he’s wearing anything under them.
