Dirty Money (Quinntana)

Chapter 2

Quinn

"Go to lunch?" Quinn gaped at Santana. "With you?"

Who else would you be going to lunch with? Quinn tried her best to keep from cringing at herself. Her nerves were getting the best of her, making it hard to think straight. Food did sound really good right now. And food with Santana sounded even better. For about a million reasons.

Santana nodded. "I'll pay, of course. And we talk some more about your loan application."

Quinn's stubborn pride hated relying on anyone for money, but this was her chance to get close to Santana. Stumbling into Santana Lopez of all people was a stroke of luck. "Okay. I'd like that very much. Thank you."

"Great." Santana gave Quinn a smile that made her stomach flutter. Her body reacting to the woman before her was the last thing she needed on her mission.

Santana got up, handed back her application, and walked her out of the loan office. She placed a gentle hand on the small of Quinn's back, guiding her through the bank. The touch burned through the fabric of Quinn's dress, the weight of Santana's hand reminded her of how long it had been since she'd had any kind of physical contact with someone she'd been attracted to.

God, she was overthinking this encounter already.

When they made it into the sunshine outside, Santana led her to a sleek black Mercedes in the executive parking lot. As she slipped into the interior's plush leather seat, Quinn subtly sized Santana up. Slim, dark, and gorgeous didn't even begin to describe her. She hadn't been kidding when she had said Santana would fit in if she visited Italy. With her jet-black hair, olive skin, and intense dark brown eyes she had the looks of a cover model.

Santana got into the driver's seat and revved the engine.

Quinn's breath caught in her throat as Santana tore out of the parking lot and out onto the street. It'd been ages since she'd been in a car this luxurious. Even longer since she'd flirted with someone this wealthy.

"We're getting Italian for lunch," Santana informed her, navigating the car through lunchtime traffic with ease.

She didn't say it like it was a suggestion. She said it like she was in complete command of the situation. Which, of course, she was. Santana was a Lopez, after all.

And Lopezes are always in control, Quinn thought bitterly.

Which made her wonder, what exactly did Santana want from her? There was no way she usually invited lowly, debt-ridden clients like her out to lunch. This wasn't some gesture out of the goodness of her heart. Santana was a Lopez. Everyone knew the Lopezes didn't have hearts. She had to have some kind of ulterior motive.

If she knew Quinn's ulterior motive, she wouldn't hesitate to destroy her. The same way her family had destroyed Quinn's family all those years ago. Earlier at the bank, Santana had thought she recognized her from somewhere. That had nearly thrown her off completely. Luckily, Santana hadn't figured out she was a Fabray. Quinn just hoped that nobody at the restaurant recognized her either.

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"I don't expect this to taste exactly like the real thing." Santana held open the restaurant door. "Breadstix is a terrific restaurant, but you've probably been spoiled by your time in Italy."

Quinn slipped inside, flashing her a grateful smile. "Managing my expectations?"

"Hardly." Santana leaned in close enough for Quinn to smell her ambery perfume. "While you might have been spoiled by the food over there, I doubt the men knew how to keep up with you." The low husk of her voice and the implication of her words made Quinn shiver.