Chapter 80

• Inside the car, tension simmered like exhaust fumes as Howard gripped the wheel, navigating the midday traffic with deliberate ease. Every few seconds, his gaze flicked sideways to Charlotte—arms crossed, jaw set, staring daggers out the window. He relished her frustration, the way it cracked her poised facade; it was intoxicating, a rare spark of real emotion from the woman who'd signed away her freedom to him. Grinning inwardly, he decided to twist the knife. "Maybe expensive things just don't sit well with you," he drawled, voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Next time we go out, we'll order to your taste—something more... humble."
• Charlotte's blood boiled, her temper flaring hot at the condescension. She whipped around to fire back, words sharpening on her tongue—when her eyes caught a roadside hot dog stand across the street. Greasy buns steaming under a striped awning, the vendor flipping sausages with practiced flips. Perfect. "Stop the car. Now," she snapped, her tone brooking no argument.
• Howard blinked, caught off guard by the sudden command, but he eased the luxury sedan to the curb without protest, tires crunching on gravel. Charlotte flung the door open and strode out, heels clicking purposefully as she jaywalked to the opposite side, weaving through honking traffic.