Gareth took the driver’s seat without a word and I slipped into the passenger seat. I was expecting the car to turn towards ho, but Gareth headed in the opposite direction.
“Wait... you’re not taking ho?”
He glanced at briefly. “You looked like you hadn’t eaten. Figured we could grab a al. Unless you’d rather go ho hungry?”
I blinked. “I—no. Food sounds good.”
The drive was quiet at first, but not uncomfortable. Just... charged. Like there was sothing in the air neither of us wanted to na.
I tried to keep my eyes on the road, on the passing buildings, on anything that wasn’t the man behind the wheel—but my gaze kept drifting. His profile under the soft dashboard light was unfairly perfect. Sharp jaw, straight nose, and his lashes were long enough to cast shadows against his face. He looked carved from stone, calm and composed, with one hand resting lazily on the steering wheel.
My eyes dropped to his hand. Big, and strong, the veins on the back of it slightly visible. I rembered how that hand had wrapped around my wrist just days ago—firm, warm, possessive.
Snap out of it, Jasmine.
I blinked and looked out the window again, cheeks warm. But then I caught the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth. A smirk. He’d noticed staring and was enjoying every second of it.
Cocky man.
I crossed my legs and looked outside, pretending I hadn’t just been caught.
“You’re quiet,” Gareth finally said.
“Just tired,” I lied quickly. My thoughts were loud and ssy.
He didn’t press, just let the silence settle again—like he didn’t mind the way it stretched between us.
A few minutes later, the car slowed, and I realized we weren’t just anywhere. He pulled up in front of a place that scread luxury without needing to show off. The valet opened my door before I could react.
A small smile played on his lips, but he didn’t say more.
It wasn’t just so regular restaurant—it was fancy. Like, really fancy. The lights were soft and golden, and everything sparkled, from the wine glasses to the silverware. The chairs looked like they belonged in a palace, not a restaurant.
Everyone around us was dressed up. I saw heels, expensive suits, and designer bags. So of the won even had diamonds in their ears and around their necks. The whole vibe was quiet and classy. It was the kind of place you only saw in movies.
And then there I was... in jeans and a tank top.
I tugged my shirt a little lower, suddenly self-conscious. “Are we... even allowed in like this?”
Gareth didn’t miss a beat. “They’ll deal.”
Of course, they would. He was Gareth Laken.
The hostess didn’t even blink at my shabby outfit. We were ushered into a private booth at the back, tucked in a dimly lit corner where soft jazz floated from hidden speakers.
The waiter showed up fast like he was waiting just for us. Hmm! Did Gareth call ahead or was he a regular here? Before I could even glance at the nu, Gareth looked up and said, “Two steaks, dium rare. And a bottle of red.”
I blinked. “You didn’t even ask what I wanted.”
He glanced at , calm as ever. “Trust , you’ll like it.”
I should’ve been annoyed. I wasn’t. Sothing about the way he said it, like he knew I’d enjoy it, made it hard to argue.
“This place is nice,” I said, glancing around. The lighting was soft and warm, with quiet jazz playing in the background. Couples and people filled the room, chatting over fancy plates. I felt out of my depth. I was still staring at my surroundings when Gareth’s voice pulled back.
“It’s one of my favorites,” Gareth said, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t bring many people here.”
That caught off guard. “Why , then?”
He looked at for a second, then said simply, “You looked like you needed a break.”
My heart did a small, unexpected flip, and I quickly looked down at my napkin.
When the food arrived, I dug in without thinking. First bite and I was hooked. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until that mont.
Gareth watched with mild amusent. “You eat like a starving wolf.”
I smirked, wiping my mouth. “Probably because I am one.”
He didn’t laugh, but the corner of his mouth lifted just a little. His eyes lingered a bit too long, and sothing about his expression made my stomach flutter.
Was this just a dinner or was it starting to feel like a date?
“I’ll be back,” I said, sliding out of the booth. “Bathroom.”
I walked through the hallway lined with mirrors and expensive art. The bathroom was marble everything. Even the soap slled like it ca from another tax bracket.
When I stepped out again, I stopped abruptly.
There was this curvy blonde. Dressed like she walked out of a magazine. She had one hand on Gareth’s chest and her body angled like she was already halfway into his lap.
“I’ve been waiting for you to call ,” she purred. “Didn’t think you’d be spending your nights with mutts.”
Mutts? My breath caught.
Gareth didn’t say anything, not right away.
“Oh, don’t give that look,” she went on, her voice smooth like poison in silk. “You’ll get bored of her. She’s nothing. You’ve had better.”
I stepped back slightly. Her voice lowered, but I still caught the words.
“She’s probably just throwing herself at you for protection. Or maybe hoping for a handout. Isn’t that what these girls do? Flash a little skin, cry a little story—then boom, in your bed.”
My nails dug into my palm. The sting helped keep still.
I turned to go when I heard Gareth’s voice behind .
“Don’t.”
I turned, confused. He was walking past her not sparing her a glance. She reached for his arm, but he brushed right by her like she didn’t exist.
“Gareth, what are you—”
“Leave,” he said coldly. “I already have soone in my heart.”
She scoffed. “You’re joking. Her?”
Then he was in front of .
Before I could ask what he was doing, Gareth stepped in close—too close. His chest pressed lightly against mine, and for a mont, I forgot how to breathe.
His scent hit like a wave of cedarwood, smoke, and sothing darker, sothing wild. It wrapped around and pulled in. I felt small under his gaze, like the whole room had vanished and there was only him and , standing in the middle of silence.
He didn’t say a word. His eyes searched mine like he was reading every thought, every doubt, every crack I tried to hide.
Then his arms slid around my waist, firm and warm, and he pulled into him. My palms flattened against his chest, and I could feel the steady beat of his heart under my fingertips.
I didn’t know what was happening—why he was doing this—but I couldn’t move.
His head dipped low, and his breath fanned across my neck, making goosebumps rise all over my skin. He didn’t kiss . He didn’t speak.
He nipped .
Right at the curve where my neck t my shoulder. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make my body freeze, then lt, all in the sa breath. Enough to make my knees wobble and my heart race so loud I was sure he could hear it.
It wasn’t a claiming mark. But it could’ve been.
And goddess help ... how I craved him.
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