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“Tonight is perfect.” I stand and retreat a step to counter the overwhelming rush of triumph. He doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into.
In fact, from his pretentious expression, it looks as though he considers himself the victor.
No way in hell.
All I need is a clue. Just one.
It doesn’t matter if he strings together a conversation full of lies. I’ll figure out the pattern. I’ll find what he’s hiding. All I have to do is keep him engaged and control my temper.
“Then it’s a date,” he drawls. “I’ll send a car to pick you up at seven.”
Again, I refuse to bite at the taunt. He can play his games.
I’m sure they’ll be his downfall.
“I’ll be ready.” I continue walking backward toward my car, keeping him in my sights while he chuckles and raises his tinted window.
It’s not until I’m behind the driver’s seat, inching down the road, my vision stalking the rearview, that I realize I’m tingling with adrenaline. That’s when the apprehension kicks in. Not because meeting with him will be dangerous, but because it suddenly feels like this is a game to me, too.