The Bet An Enemies-To-Lovers Billionaire Romance - Sienna Blake Page 0,34

this was “not McDonald’s”. The crumpled wad of hundreds I fished out of my back pocket effectively calmed his Napoleonic tirade.

I wiggled the to-go box inside the dark interior of the town car like bait on the end of a line (not that I would ever go fishing personally—far too much effort). I grinned when after a moment a pair of hands lunged out, snatched it away from me, and disappeared back into the dark. I opened the door the rest of the way and slipped inside before closing the door shut behind me.

Delaney was slumped in her seat, to-go box open and propped up against her chest, heavily poured glass of whiskey wedged between her knees.

“We have cup holders, you know,” I said, nodding at one directly beside her. “Do pickup trucks not have cup holders?”

Delaney forcefully stabbed a slice of her steak au poivre and kept her gaze fixed straight ahead of her at the black felt partition as she chewed.

“Oh, come now,” I said, reaching for the bottle of whiskey. “Don’t sulk, love.”

I winced and drew my stinging hand back to my chest after Delaney slapped my hand away from what was apparently her whiskey now.

“I see the open bar has not numbed your agitation as successfully as I had hoped,” I said, drumming my fingers on my knees. “Perhaps I needed something stronger? Moonshine? Cleaning products? What do they drink in the boondocks?”

“I’m not your goddamn pet,” Delaney snapped, turning her head to glare at me with those dark eyes that flashed like lightning at midnight.

I smiled and snatched a pommes frites from her to-go box before she could stop me.

“I’m glad you ditched the silent and brooding thing,” I said, chewing it merrily. “Not that I thought you could hold out like that much longer anyway. But I much prefer you like this, love. Loud and fiery.”

“Fuck what you prefer,” she shouted. “I ain’t going to be treated like a plaything by you.”

I jerked back dramatically and lifted a shocked hand to my chest.

“Ain’t? Ain’t? Delaney, that trash is below you,” I told her, laying a hand on her arm that she quickly shrugged off. “And that’s saying something, eh?”

“Grammar is not the fucking point right now,” she argued, her cheeks blossoming in a bright pink. “My accent gets thicker when I’m pissed.”

“Pissed? Perturbed, upset, furious but never pissed. And besides, you shouldn’t be pissed,” I said.

Delaney scoffed and with quivering fingers, reached for her glass of whiskey. She drank half of it and then swiped angrily at her lips.

“No? Because you had alcohol waiting for me to take away the sting of making a fool of myself? Because you brought me food?”

Delaney shoved the to-go box back at me. I cradled it to prevent the pepper sauce from spilling onto my suit.

“Thanks, but no, thanks,” Delaney growled. “I was doing good without it.”

I dipped a pinkie into the sauce and sucked it into my mouth before saying, “You were doing well without it. Wow, this is tasty, huh? Did you want to see the dessert menu?”

“All I am is a bit of entertainment to you,” she grumbled, nursing her anger with her glass of whiskey. “Yourself, yourself, yourself. That’s all you think of.”

“Dangling preposition alert,” I announced, shaking my head in mock disappointment as I clicked my tongue.

Delaney threw her head back and yelled in frustration.

“Hey, are you going to finish this?” I asked her, nodding toward her to-go box. “I think I like it better than my lamprey à la Bordelaise, to be honest.”

Delaney huffed, slunk down lower, and pouted against the lip of the Jack Daniels bottle, which had replaced the empty glass.

“Go for it,” she mumbled. “You people take whatever the hell you want anyways.”

“Well, thank you,” I said. “But shall we not resort to such informal colloquialisms as ‘anyways’? How uncouth.”

This earned a prompt middle finger. I grinned and then looked around the back seat but failed to find silverware.

“What happened to the fork…”

I glanced at Delaney but her stormy face told me I wouldn’t be getting any assistance in finding my missing utensil. With a sigh, I closed the lid of the to-go box and placed it atop mine on the floor of the town car.

“Can I tell you the real reason why you shouldn’t be upset with me?” I asked her. “And it’s not because I plied you with booze afterward or brought you a doggy bag.”

Delaney laughed bitterly. “Let’s see what bullshit he can pull out of