Nine
HE DROVE LIKE A MANIAC through Paris, up hills, round bends… without care. I wasn’t sure if he even knew where we were going… was he just trying to scare me?
One thing I did know, he needn’t consider a career as a chauffeur. I also sensed the car was a hire job because he wouldn’t dare throttle the clutch like that on his own machine, surely?
“DANTE! Explain, please!”
“We’ll be there soon, honey bun!” he called, sounding like the perfect maniac he really was.
I saw in the reflection of the mirrors that his coat wasn’t even done up properly so if this was daytime (it wasn’t; it was two in the morning), everyone would get a lovely view of his exposed chest which displeased me.
He was mine and all those contours and that sheen of light-brown fur coating his muscles was for my eyes
