8
Quentin
“Stop biting your nails.”
“Never,” she muttered, probably thinking I couldn’t hear her. I pulled in a breath. I tried hard to keep my cool with her, but at the moment she was getting on my last nerve.
We finally left her apartment. She was determined to bring her own clothes, and I insisted I would buy her new ones. She had stomped past me with her nose in the air and gone to her room. I desperately wanted to follow her and teach her a lesson, but we didn’t have time. Derek needed to meet his end by my animal’s claws and teeth, and I needed to get her safe.
We drove to my penthouse, and I gathered my things while she stood in the middle of my modern apartment staring at the polished details. The couch was sleek black leather. The other furniture complemented it, also black.
