He took a sip of his drink. “Ocala.”
That was hours from Miami Beach. “Then why are you here?”
“Why do you think?”
I made a pathetic attempt at humor. “You’re trying to get into my pants?”
His sideways glance was unreadable. “Trying? No.”
I wasn’t going to touch that. “So you just show off your real estate to random women who get kidnapped?” I was so damn uncomfortable in this designer showcase waste of money, I wanted to accuse him of being pretentious but he wasn’t. He was a Viking-sized beast of man who made no apologies.
“I show nothing off.” He tossed his drink back in one gulp. “You are not random and I do not bring women here.” The muscles in his forearm rippled as he set his glass on the coffee table.
I didn’t know if I believed him about the women but then it occurred to me why it might be true. “Do you have a girlfriend?”
He didn’t hesitate. “No attachments.”
At first I thought he meant he wasn’t attached to anyone right now but then something in his tone made me question him. “No attachments like you’re not seeing anyone right now or no attachments like you don’t do relationships.”
I digested the information but instead of it putting me at ease, I was getting more uncomfortable by the second. My adrenaline was two fucked-up situations past spent and suddenly I wanted out of here. “I want to leave.”
Reaching in his pocket, he came away with keys. With one quick, swift motion, he tossed them at me and I caught them midair.
He lowered himself to the couch and spread his massive arms along the back. His biceps strained the fabric of his shirt. “Truck’s parked in the garage.”
“You’re going to let me walk out of here.” It wasn't a question because I knew he was full of shit. He wouldn’t even let André talk to me alone but he was going to let me drive off in his truck? He’d said I wouldn’t be safe alone and he was right.
He studied my face. “You are nervous.” He said it like it was an answer, not a statement.
“I think you want me nervous.” I didn’t know what he wanted or why he’d given me the keys. He was aloof as hell and he looked like he got off on making women sweat.
His gaze dragged the length of me, slow and deliberate. “I want a lot of things but that is not one of them.”
The sting of his earlier rejection made my face flush and anger surged. “Screw you.” In a spectacular display of my temper, stupid enough to think I was going to simply walk out, I made it all the way to the door.
His giant hand wrapped around my nape.