"Coming with me?" I sputtered. "But—"
He shut my trunk, turning toward me. "Kira, it will look more convincing if we both go to your father. We made this business arrangement together, and we should both be involved in what's necessary to make it work. Consider this me earning part of my share." He walked to his truck and put both my suitcase, and his small bag behind the seats.
"And why are you putting my suitcase into your truck?"
"Because I like to drive."
I threw up my hands, feeling suddenly trampled over. It felt far too familiar. "Part of your controlling dragon nature, I assume?"
"I suppose." He placed the small plastic bag full of what I assumed to be sandwiches from Charlotte into the small back seat and climbed behind the wheel. I opened the passenger side door, looking up at him, but not climbing in.
"You enjoy irritating me, don't you?"
He appeared to consider that. "It does hold a certain appeal." He glanced at me. "But this isn't about that."
"You don't have to feel obligated to do this," I said. Frankly, I hardly wanted Grayson to meet my father for the first time when I'd be telling him about our marriage. I could only imagine the frigid disdain he'd show not only me, but Grayson as well. And I had to wonder if Grayson's name would be familiar at all? I doubted it—my father only remembered those who could continue to serve his agenda in some way. Plus, what had happened had been quite a few years ago, and had transpired in a few brief moments. Still, I'd never pictured Grayson being in the room when I informed my father I'd gotten married without telling him in advance. Things could get ugly, and I didn't want anyone—most especially Grayson Hawthorn—to see it. Especially considering that I was pretty sure my father wouldn't strive to spare Grayson's feelings in any way, shape, or form. God, when had I begun to care so much about The Dragon's feelings?
It was really somewhat concerning.
"It's the appropriate way to handle this, Kira. Now, can we go? I don't want to hit any traffic in San Francisco."
"Who will take care of Sugie?" I asked, attempting one final argument.
"Charlotte. Virgil will help out, too. The dog seems to have taken a liking to him."
I huffed out one final breath, but then relented. Fine, he could come and see for himself exactly why I would rather marry him than take anything from my father in this life or any other. He would see . . . well, he would see exactly who I was. And that scared me. Why? And then it came to me—I wanted The Dragon to respect me. I didn't want him to see me as the spoiled heiress he'd obviously judged me to be that day in his office when he'd shown me such cold disdain. I didn't want him to see the grandeur of where I'd grown up and think that was any part of who I was or what I wanted out of life. I had married this man, and yet I'd never intended on letting Grayson Hawthorn into my private life, my private pain. I had set up this arrangement as a business venture. And now, suddenly, I realized, it was turning into more—for me at least. I cared. And that scared me.
And was probably very, very stupid.
Swallowing my own sudden confusion, I rolled down the window as we drove out the gates, inhaling a breath of the air, still sweet with the scent of late summer.
"Where were you planning on staying?" Grayson asked once we'd turned onto the freeway.
"A hotel," I answered.
"Not with Kimberly?"
I shook my head. "Now that I have the money to stay at a decent hotel, I'd rather not impose on them. Their apartment is so small."