“Aye, lass, he does. The question is whether or not you’re gonna enjoy it when you find out what bein’ the property of a man like him is like.”
He grabs my handbag from my desk, slings it over his shoulder, and saunters away down the hall, leaving me no choice but to follow.
I ignore Shasta’s desperate hiss of, “b***h, what the hell?” as I go.
We go to a little Italian place I’ve been dying to try that’s owned by a couple who met on a blind date and fell instantly in love. When we’re seated at the table, I sigh in happiness, looking around at the cozy, comfortable interior, a perfect replica of the Italian place the couple went to the night they met.
I find the whole story incredibly romantic. Tales of fated lovers are my Kryptonite.
“I love Italian food,” I tell Cam, petting the red-
