Jack
Priscilla’s eyes went wide when I told her how much the car was worth. “I thought you were poor,” she says.
“Poor is subjective, Priscilla,” I respond. “Want to go for a ride?” I offer, and she nods. I grab the key from the lock box in the corner and then open the passenger door for her.
She slides into the car and runs her hand over the interior. “It’s beautiful.”
“I know it’s not one of the brand new ones,” I say as I slip into the driver's seat.
“No, it's better, “She smiles. “If you have this, then why do you work?”
“Every alpha has to work, Priscilla. You don’t think your father works. I mean, his work is vastly different than mine, but I assure you he works,” I explain as I start the car. She roars to life, and Priscilla’s smile grows. “You know you have a gorgeous smile,
