PAIGE
The car glided to a stop, crunching softly on the pristine gravel driveway.
Paige stared out the window, her cheeks still warm. In her mind, she was cursing the smug, infuriating, impossibly attractive man beside her. Smug bastard.
The car door was opened by a uniformed valet. The destination was huge—a sprawling, modern estate with glass walls reflecting the perfectly manicured lawns. In the distance, the gentle thwock of tennis balls echoed from pristine courts.
Reomen stepped out first, the picture of casual elegance in his designer jeans and cashmere sweater. He looked utterly at home in this world of quiet, extreme wealth. A faint, amused smirk played on his lips as he watched Paige's frustrated profile still turned away from him. He enjoyed this. Her struggle was his favorite sport.
He turned and offered her his hand, a gentlemanly gesture that was anything but.
She ignored it. She made to step out on her own, chin held high.
