I asked him why he didn’t just buy one from Bax. After all, the guy had the sweetest rides around in both the Point and the Hill. Nassir gave me a look out of the corner of his eye and chillingly reminded me that he had been responsible for getting Bax’s girlfriend abducted by a bunch of thugs, even if he had done so at the behest of Bax’s brother in order to set Novak up, and that he had also put Bax in the center of the fight ring with more than one dirty fighter. Bax was only as civil as he had to be and Nassir said he wouldn’t put it past him to put him in a car that either exploded if it went over fifty miles an hour or one that would fall apart as soon as he drove it off the lot so Bax could shake him down for more money. He also tilted his narrow and perfectly sculpted nose in the air and told me when it came to his ride, he wanted refinement and handling more than noise and speed. He wanted something that looked good and made an impression over something that was powerful and annoyingly American. His words, not mine, but they made me laugh under my breath.

Sometimes I forgot he was from somewhere else. Sometimes I forgot that he had an entire history before the Point. Before me. But then he would say something like that or mutter things in a different language when he was distracted and I would remember he was exactly like the vehicles he preferred. Imported. Fast. Showstopping and extravagant. He wanted something that made an impression and I didn’t bother to tell him he could be in a minivan and achieve that. In fact, as soon as he climbed out of the Honda he had a swarm of salesmen all over him, buzzing around like well-dressed bees.

Nassir grabbed my hand and pulled me past them. I could feel their eyes following us, trying to figure out the dynamic between the two of us. I would bet good money that even though my shoes cost a fortune and my outfit was chic and reasonably respectable for our errand, they all still thought I was one of his working girls. Everyone knew Nassir liked money and knew how he made it. While he radiated quiet dominance and authority, I knew that I radiated sex and all the things good girls didn’t talk about when anyone else was around. I also knew that this constantly made people underestimate me.

He stopped in front of a low-slung Jaguar with a convertible top that was a pretty shade of dark green.

“What do you think?” His voice was low and the question was for my ears only. I shrugged.

“It’s pretty but with people trying to run you off the road, maybe a soft top isn’t the way to go.” I looked at the window and the windshield for a price and couldn’t find one. “How are you supposed to know how much it costs?”

He put his hand on my hip and splayed his fingers wide. He brushed the tip of his nose around the shell of my ear and told me softly, “If you have to ask, then they assume you can’t afford it.”

I balked at that but had to scramble as he guided me over to an Audi that looked like something out of the future. No wonder Ana was up for all Christian’s games. The car was hot and definitely a panty dropper. Nassir must have seen on my face my dislike of the weird bubble design because he just chuckled and moved on to a Mercedes that looked like something James Bond would drive. He shook his head when I told him my thoughts and told me Bond drove an Aston Martin and mentioned we could look at those too. I just rolled my eyes at him and continued to let him drag me around the showroom.

All the cars looked the same. Sleek, sexy, and very expensive. I couldn’t believe he wasn’t concerned about the cost, but as the hour wore on I realized he was waiting on me to find something that I actually liked. I had to pull him to a stop by the lapels of his suit jacket and tell him it didn’t matter to me what he forked over his cash on. I finally shared with him my theory that he could drive a minivan and still be the most dangerously sexy man I had ever known.

That made his dark brows furrow over his candy-colored eyes and his mouth twist into a grimace of distaste. “I’m not driving a minivan—ever—but I do want something that’s as sturdy as the Bentley, so how about we test-drive a Range Rover?”

I had no clue what a Range Rover was, but if it got me out of the car dealership and away from all the speculative looks I could feel following us everywhere, then I was game. He crooked a finger and the swarm moved our way.

“I want to take the Range Rover for a test drive.” He pointed to one that was a dark slate gray with a soft-looking dove-gray interior.

One of the salesmen adjusted his tie and put on his best buy-car-from-me grin. “Sure thing. I’ll grab the keys and we’ll head out.”

Nassir tossed his arm across my shoulders and I wrapped my arm around his waist underneath his tailored jacket. By now the shock of how hard and tight his body was under that luxury fabric should’ve worn off, but it hadn’t. The way his muscles tightened and coiled at my touch sent a shot of desire right between my legs. I leaned even more heavily into his side. The truth was I didn’t care what anyone thought about me being there. It was like it was my own special reserved spot and I had earned my right to be in it.

“Just the keys. I don’t need you to tag along.” Nassir’s tone left no room for argument, but the sales guy missed the memo.

“Uh . . . that vehicle costs over a hundred and fifty grand. It can’t leave the showroom unattended.” I smirked. I bet I could talk the guy down to a lower price. I was an excellent haggler.

Nassir’s black eyebrows lifted and the corner of his mouth pulled down in a scowl that had sent many running in the other direction.

“If you want me to buy it, then it does.” The guy looked over his shoulder at his cohorts and they were all suddenly really busy with their cell phones or other customers. He gulped and turned his attention back to us.

“Um . . . look. I could really use the sale, but that’s against policy.” He was starting to get antsy and, I think, was quickly realizing Nassir wasn’t the average rich guy with disposable income to spread around.

“What’s your commission if I buy it? Twenty-five percent on the front end?”

The guy gulped and nervously nodded. “So I’ll give you your commission up front, you’ll let me take the car.”

The guy’s eyes bugged in his face and he started to sweat. “That’s like forty K?”

Nassir sighed. “Thanks. I can do math.” I couldn’t hold back the laugh that tripped over my lips at the dry sarcasm in his accented voice.

“Um . . . just let me . . . yeah . . . I’ll be back.” The salesman scampered away and I looked up at Nassir under my eyelashes.