Chapter Twenty-Six
"Get in," he instructed, his voice firm but low.
Asli hesitated, her eyes darting toward the door, then back to him. Defiance sparked within her.
"No," she said, her voice steady.
His gaze narrowed, and his jaw tightened. He took a deliberate step away from her.
"I won't ask again," he warned.
Still, she resisted, her arms crossing over her chest.
Suddenly, he moved, swooping her into the car with ease. She landed on the soft leather seat.
"Seatbelt," he ordered.
He sighed and fixed the seatbelt himself. He couldn't help but notice the spark of defiance still burning in her eyes. It was a flame he intended to extinguish, or at least harness.
He walked around the car, his thoughts filled with the events that had led them to this point. Her resistance was expected, but it only fueled his determination.
Sliding into the driver's seat, he buckled his seatbelt and started the engine. The soft hum filled the tense silence between them.
He glanced at her, noting the rigid posture and crossed arms.
"Why must you fight me?" he asked aloud, his voice softer than intended.
He put the car in gear and pulled away from the trailer. He was going to call someone to pick it up.
"Where are you taking me?" she asked, her voice still laced with resistance. Being seen together would raise all the alarms in the city.
"Dinner," he replied, his gaze fixed on the road ahead.
She raised an eyebrow. "You're kidnapping me for dinner?"
A hint of amusement danced on his lips. "I prefer the word escort."
They arrived at an upscale restaurant, its elegant facade glowing softly in the evening light. He parked and stepped out, opening her door.
"Out," he said, offering his hand.
She hesitated, her gaze flicking to his hand before she brushed it aside. "I don't need assistance," she said, her voice firm.
With a fluid motion, she stepped out of the car, her boots marking on the pavement. Her independence was a subtle turn-on, one he acknowledged with a raised eyebrow. What was she doing to him?
She slid into her seat, her movements confident and self-assured.
"You're quite… self-sufficient," he observed, his tone neutral.
She met his gaze, a hint of defiance sparkling in her eyes. He wondered if there would ever be a day it would never be in her eyes. "I'm no fragile princess." She declared.
As they stood outside the restaurant, her gaze locked onto his. He noticed the fiery determination burning within hers.
"I'm not going in," she said, her voice low and even.
His eyes narrowed equally. "You are."
The air thickened with tension.
She scanned the area, her eyes darting toward exits and potential threats. He recognized the calculated assessment of a rival. He didn't blame her for that. He would've done the same thing.
He was glad she didn't argue anymore and walked ahead into the restaurant. They sat, her body tense, and hands clasped together.
When the food arrived, she ignored her plate.
"Eat," he commanded, his voice low and urgent.
Her eyes flashed, her usual defiance lingering. "No."
His jaw clenched. Memories of her collapse resurfaced, but he shoved them aside.
"This isn't about control," he growled. "Just eat."
Her lips curled into a snarl. "You can't dictate what I do."
He leaned in and his anger boiled over. "Eat, or so help me..."
Their faces were inches apart, the challenge hung in the air. Her eyes blazed, daring him to make the next move.
"Eat, or so help me what?" she taunted, her voice dripping with more defiance.
His fingers held onto the table as if he were controlling himself. "Don't push me." He was.
She leaned in, her breath a whisper from his. "I'm not afraid of you."
He knew that. The air crackled with tension.
With a swift motion, he grasped her wrist, his grip unyielding. "You should be."
Her eyes flashed, but she didn't struggle. Instead, she used her free hand to sweep the plate away, sending the napkins, glasses, and food shattering on the floor.
The sound echoed through the restaurant, drawing attention from the workers since the room was empty.
"Enough," he growled, his face drew away from hers.
Her lips curled into a snarl. "Never."
The waitress approached, hesitant. "Sir, madam, is everything—"
"He's kidnapping me," she accused. "Call the police."