In which an exchange student falls into the hands of a dangerous man.
• • •
Brazen and bold Freya Cannon finds herself signing up for a study-abroad opportunity presented to her by her college counselor. When her and her close friend Mia learn that...
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"SAY THE WORDS, FREYA."
Nico looks sinfully handsome; tucked away in a tight-fitting black dress shirt to go nicely with his sleek black slacks. Despite everything else on him being primed to perfection, he left his dark hair to sit unruly over his forehead.
The words. He wants me to promise him that I will behave — whatever that means. It's not like I would intentionally sabotage him in front of dozens of elitists, I understand to a degree that his reputation is on the line here. But I have a nagging feeling that his definition of good behavior doesn't exactly line up with mine, and that's exactly why I'm so hesitant to make a promise that I'm not completely sure I can keep.
"Freya." Nico warns in a low rasp. When I don't answer him, he slows the car down until we're chugging along at an obnoxiously slow pace.
"What's your definition of good behavior?" I ask. When he looks over at me, his features look unamused. He's already tired of my shit and we haven't even made it there yet. Great.
"Stay quiet. Be polite. Hold onto me like you actually enjoy me." His voice is impossibly low, so much so that it sends goosebumps up my arms. His eyes linger on my face, flicking between my eyes, waiting for me to make that promise he so desperately needs.
I let out a sigh. "Alright. I won't embarrass you or make you look bad. You have my word."
He lets out a hum of approval. "Good girl."
Good girl.
My stomach explodes into butterflies. What the actual heck is happening to me? Just a few days ago, I felt physically repulsed by this man, now all he has to do is utter two words my way and I'm a puddle of nerves.
Was it because he finger fucked me? Did that turn me soft? Was it . . . something more than that?
I shake my head, shifting in my seat uncomfortably. Nico glances over at me and his eyebrows slightly knit together. I'm prepared for him to question me, but relief washes over me when he decides to leave it alone and focuses on driving instead.
I don't need to think of that right now. Besides, even if I did have a small microscopic crush on the man, I don't live here in Spain. My home is in America, thousands and thousands of miles away. It would never work to begin with.
It only takes a few more minutes until we're pulling up to a sleek glass building that looks like it's made more of windows than anything else. The parking lot is littered with every single sports car you could imagine. Lamborghini's, Porche's, everything.
"Jesus." I whisper to myself as I eye all of the vehicles. I wonder what it's like to have so much money that dumping six figures on a car barely scratches the surface. I'm not hating, I'm just clueless.
Nico pulls into a parking spot and slides the gear into park. When the engine switches off, he tilts his head back and looks at me. His brown eyes look even darker in the dim lighting of the lot. "You ready?"
