Page 84 of The Crowned Garza

Creed implores, “You’ll meet us there, right?”

“Have a safe flight, Creed.”

When I go to step around him, he catches my hand and snakes me to him, fusing his mouth to mine. Kissing me as though he knows he won’t be seeing me there.

He despairingly bumps his forehead to mine when I break the kiss. “I’ll be waiting for you, babe.”

I don’t make him any promises. The moment Saint stepped out of that vehicle, Creed became irrelevant to me.

Extricating myself from him, I tell him, “Go on before your plane leaves.”

We split in two different directions. Him toward his jet, me toward my madness.

“A security threat?” I hiss through clenched teeth once I’m in front of Saint. “Who the hell do you think you are to show up and interfere in my life like this?”

“You don’t belong in that crowd,” he replies with all the nonchalance of a toad. “The last time that group went to Ibiza, two of them overdosed. One died and the other one is still in rehab. You’re better than this.”

“Don’ttellme what I’m better than.” I slam my palms against his chest. “I know who I am and what my damn limits are.”

“Yeah? Is that why there are videos of you smoking from a hookah on your socials?”

I’ve never smoked in my life. Have I pretended to? Plenty. For pics, for social media stories, but never for real. And if he knew me at all, he’d know I’d never in a million years do drugs of any kind. Not just because “getting high” doesn’t appeal to me, but mostly because Torin would lock me in an attic and Trent would melt the key.

What’s pissing me off right now is that him—of all people—voicing these “concerns” lets me know he’s not here of his own accord. Torin doesn’t approve of Creed and his crew, so there’s no doubt he asked him to personally keep an eye on me.That’swhy the sonuvabitch is here. What a punch in the gut.

“Call Sacha Allard,” I demand. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Allard’s busy.”

“Then I’ll call an Uber. Gimme my suitcase.”

“Get in the car.”

“You successfully got me off the plane and away from the ‘bad people.’ You’ve done your job. Like the loyal soldier you are.Good boy.” I offer a tiny applause. “Now kindly give me my suitcase and fuck off.”

Instead of obliging, he opens the passenger door and chucks the suitcase in on the back seat. “Quit being a childish brat and get in the car, Tillie.”

“Fine. Keep it. There’s a sexy gold bikini in there that I’ll miss, but…” With a shrug, I turn and flounce off just as the jet taxis down the runway.

It infuriates me that I can’t control my emotions around him when I’m cool as pie with everyone else. But, gah! I didn’t think I’d feel this strongly seeing him again.

Maybe because “everyone else” doesn’t make mefeellike he does.

Footsteps follow me. They’re lazy and confident. Still, as much power as I pump into my own steps, his long strides close the distance to me in no time.

To stop me, he hooks his fingers into a belt loop on my jeans and tugs firmly. “What’s going on with you,regina?”

“Don’t call me that!” In a fog of indignance, I whip around and shove at his chest. “I’m not your damn ‘regina.’ I’m not your anything!”

Amber eyes touch every inch of my face. “You’ll always bemia regina.” He brushes flyaway hair from my forehead. “If you want to go to Ibiza that badly, make plans with Sunny to go together and I’ll cover the expenses.”

“This is not about frickin’ Ibiza, you asshole!” I shout in his face.

“No?”

Oh my God, he’s exasperating!With an unladylike growl, I chuck his chest, again and again and again… Until I’m worn out—because chucking him is like slamming my hands against a brick wall. And then I turn and sprint off down the tarmac.

He chases me. Catches me from behind with ease.