Page 44 of Bronson
“That’s illegal. That’s stealing.”
“Yes. It is. And I’m happy to do it.” There isn’t a hint of guilt in his voice.
I like that. I’d do the same.
And he knows that about me. That’s why he feels safe telling me this.
He says, “I’ve never been a black and white thinker. To me, all decisions are gray. You take the information you have and do what needs to be done to protect the vulnerable.”
As do I. Every day. People who say, ‘rules are rules,’ drive me nuts. I say, “There is such a thing as what’s truly ethical in this world. And that doesn’t come from some rulebook written to protect the wealthy.”
“Exactly.”
But the operation he speaks of is a far cry from slipping a sixty-five-dollar camisole in your purse, or one bottle of Betimol eye drops. We’re talking hundreds of thousands of dollars. And that’s only for the crime he’s confessed to.
I should be scared. Overwhelmed, at least. Instead, I want to see where he lives. “Take me to your house.”
“Are you sure?” he asks.
“Have you ever known me to waver?” I’m picking up some of his fancy words.
“No.”
“Let’s go, then.”
He flashes me a wicked smile.
CHAPTER FIVE
Paige
Hand in hand, we find our way out of the café. We burst into the dark night. The cold air slaps my cheeks. The sound of the bustle of the street fills my ears.
Where our hands are joined, a wave of electricity runs through my blood. Our eyes meet. The desire I feel is reflected in his gaze.
Holding his free hand up, he hails a sleek black car that’s parked at the curb. Fanciest cab I’ve ever seen.
It immediately pulls forward a few feet, stopping right next to Bronson.
That never happens for me.
I have a feeling the universe moves for a Bachman.
Before opening the door for me, he says, “I behaved badly.”
I blink. “Was that an apology?”
“Do not make this more difficult than it already is.” His jaw clenches.
“That was not an apology.”
He releases a hard breath. “I was jealous. I embarrassed you, disrespected a perfectly nice boy—”
“Man.”
“Debatable.”
I wait.
