Angel from Hell

Chapter 6 Take a Shower

Dorothy climbed into Vincent's car as they left the hotel.

They hadn't driven more than a couple of miles when she noticed a small diner still open on the side of the road.

"Sir, could you please pull over for a moment?" she asked.

The driver complied, and once the car had stopped, Dorothy turned to Vincent. "I think this is a good place to stop. I'll come to your office tomorrow during business hours to finalize the contract for the Francis Memorial Bridge project."

He stared at her. "Are you ordering me around?"

The thought that he might have been played by this woman made Vincent bristle with irritation. Vincent Valentine, the genius of the business world, had been used like a tool by a woman.

"Of course not," Dorothy replied, deliberately avoiding his gaze. "I just thought it's getting late..."

Vincent pressed further, "Weren't you the one who asked me to let you stay with me for a few days?"

Dorothy forced a laugh. "Well, you didn't respond, so I assumed you were saying no. I've already figured out where I'm going to stay."

"Stay with me," he said, leaning in closer, his smile dripping with temptation. "Dorothy, I've kept my end of the bargain. Now it's your turn."

Dorothy twirled her fingers around his, giving him a hesitant smile. "But I already have a place to stay. What should I do?"

"Do you think it's fun to toy with me?" Vincent's grip tightened on her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "You sweet-talk me when you need something, then kick me to the curb when you're done?"

He grabbed her wrist, pulling her into his arms and whispering, "I'm not someone you can play with."

"I really can't tonight," she said awkwardly.

"Well, that's not up to you. Since you've closed the deal, you're now officially mine. That means you need to do what you promised. Understand?" Vincent said firmly, almost threatening to end their contract.

She felt a pang of panic. This man was a wolf, and she was in over her head.

"Carl, drive," Vincent commanded the driver coldly, moving away from her side.

"Wait," she blurted out, "I'm hungry. I want to grab a bite before we go."

"There will be dinner waiting for you at the hotel," he replied curtly, leaving no room for argument.

She pointed out the window at the small diner. "I want to eat here. They make the best spaghetti Bolognese."

Vincent's sharp gaze fixed on her face.

Dorothy clutched his hand, her tone pleading. "Vincent, I haven't had a bite to eat in over twenty-four hours. I'm really hungry."

It wasn't often that she called him by his name, usually opting for the forbidden title of "brother-in-law" to remind them both of the dangerous nature of their relationship.

Vincent admitted that her directness pleased him at that moment, though it also stirred a slight irritation.

'Over twenty-four hours?' he thought. 'What an idiot.'

"Fine, let's eat."

Dorothy's face lit up with a smile, but just as she was about to get out and bid him goodbye, she realized Vincent had followed her out of the car.

Seeing her surprise, he grinned mischievously and whispered in her ear, "I know what you're up to. But tonight, you're not getting away."

Her heart skipped a beat. "I'm not up to anything, and I have no intention of running."

With that, she turned and walked into the diner, though she was mentally cursing him for being so difficult. If it weren't for the fact that she still needed him, she would've kicked him to the curb already.

The diner's owner, a cheerful woman named Emma, spotted Dorothy and rushed over to give her a warm hug. "Dorothy! My sweet girl! It's been ages since you last came in."

Dorothy smiled, "It has, Emma! I've been craving your spaghetti Bolognese. I'm starving!"

"Coming right up," Emma said with a grin as she headed back to the kitchen.

Dorothy poured two glasses of cold water at the bar and returned to the table, handing one to Vincent.

Vincent smirked. "Looks like you really do come here often."

"Why would I lie about that?"

She smiled, her face losing the pretense it had held earlier. "My dad loved pasta, but my mom wasn't a fan of carbs. So whenever Dad wanted pasta, we'd come here. Over time, it became my favorite too."

Vincent studied her for a moment before asking, "How do you know Harvey? You two seem close."

"Harvey was my dad's college buddy and best friend."

Vincent raised an eyebrow. "Your dad?"

"Have you heard of him?" she asked, watching his face closely.

"No, but I know of him. He was the designer of the Francis Memorial Bridge."

Dorothy's expression darkened, her voice tinged with irritation. "My dad didn't just design the Francis Memorial Bridge. He also designed the award-winning East Bay Underwater Tunnel and the floating bridge at Brown Lake."

Sensing her anger, Vincent responded coolly, "That's how people are. No matter how many honors you have, they'll forget. But make one mistake, and they'll crucify you."

Her face flushed with anger, but she couldn't deny that he was right.

Emma returned with a plate of spaghetti. "Sweetheart, I added extra tomatoes and cheese for you. You've lost weight, so eat up."

"Thank you, Emma."

A sly look crossed Dorothy's face as she turned to Vincent and asked, "You sure you don't want any?"

"No, I'm fine," Vincent replied, shaking his head.

"Then more for me," she said, twirling her fork through the pasta and taking a big bite, her lips coated with sauce as she savored the dish.

Vincent frowned as he watched her eat carelessly.

This was his first time dining in a small, unpretentious place like this and definitely the first time he'd seen a woman eat so heartily in front of him.

Dorothy, completely unbothered by appearances, was thoroughly enjoying her meal. She polished off the entire plate of spaghetti in one go.

Satisfied, she patted her stomach. "That was delicious. It's a shame you didn't have any."

Then, she stood up to pay the bill.

Vincent watched her go, unable to stop a smile from curling his lips.

At this moment, Dorothy seemed more vibrant and alive than he'd ever seen her, like a spirited gypsy woman in a vivid painting.

On the way back to the hotel, Dorothy remained mostly silent.

When they reached the 66th floor, Vincent shut the door behind them and pushed her up against it.

He lowered his head to kiss her, but she quickly covered his mouth with her hand.

He frowned. "What, you think you can refuse me now?"

She smiled seductively, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning close to his face. "I just ate spaghetti. Are you sure you want to start now?"

Standing so close, he could definitely smell the garlic and onions on her breath.

He raised an eyebrow. "Go take a shower."

"Sure, but I need to make a quick phone call first. How about you go first?"

Vincent didn't suspect anything and turned to head into the bathroom.

Yet the next second, Dorothy smiled slyly like a fox.

As the sound of running water echoed from behind the closed door, Dorothy's smile vanished. She quickly moved to the door, opened it, and after casting one last cold glance at the bathroom door, she slipped out and walked away as fast as she could.