I told him to take me to dinner.

The thought kept drifting through her mind, robbing her focus each time. 

Charlie didn't exactly regret saying what she'd said. They needed to start somewhere. It just seemed so...mundane, for someone like Remi. Did mobsters go on dinner dates? 

The image of him showing up on her doorstep with flowers popped into her head and she had to bite her lower lip to keep from giggling. It was just so utterly ridiculous. She couldn't even conjure up a proper image of Remi in that situation—the picture in her mind was blurred by its own impossibility. 

Then she just as quickly sobered. What had happened to her life that a date was the thing that seemed outlandish?

Sighing to herself, Charlie leaned against the administrative counter, waiting for one of the admins to come back with the volunteer schedule. 

The image of Remi sitting across from her with a glass of wine in his hand and the soft chatter of other diners enveloping them didn't sit well in her mind either. It was just so...so...weird. Strange. Like trying to put a tiger in someone's living room and calling it a house cat.

Maybe the whole dinner date thing hadn't been the best idea. 

The woman came back with the schedule, handing it over with a rushed smile before she scurried down the hall. Charlie lightly tapped the pen she was holding against the light blue countertop, not seeing the paper in front of her. 

After all, pretending that he was something he was not could only end poorly. She was pretty sure that Remi wasn't really the type of man you just went to dinner with. That thought made her snort. Who was she kidding? It wouldn't be just dinner.

Still...his look of shock had almost made her laugh, and his agreement had been a pleasing surprise. It had made hope spark deep in her stomach, though hope for what, she still didn't quite know.

Only time would tell if his words really meant anything. 

That thought made her shake her head and she focused on the papers in front of her, adding a note about her changed schedule. It hadn't been too hard to rearrange her hours, which had been a relief. And Dr. Mila had mentioned an opportunity for a little more clinical experience, rather than just shadowing.

Charlie had loved shadowing Dr. Mila and the idea of actually testing some of her skills was extremely appealing. She was excited by the prospect of actually getting some hands-on experience

Her grip on the pen loosened as the phantom sensation of blood on her skin warmed her finger. A small frown created a divot between her eyebrows. She sort of already had hands-on experience.

Just...none she could own up to.

That sent a shiver of dread over her body, raising goosebumps in its wake as her mind suddenly latched onto that thought. 

If it was ever found out that she was practicing without a license—without even proper, formal training—she would be thrown in prison. And that definitely wouldn't be the end of it. She'd be barred from ever practicing again—from even attempting to get licensed.

But the only way she was ever going to get that license was by continuing to practice illegally. The path she had taken toward the thing she desired most could potentially rob her of everything she had ever worked toward.

She couldn't walk away.

It was a sobering thought, to say the least. One she had mostly avoided until now.

Blindly, she put the paperwork back in its folder and handed it to a different administrator behind the desk. She barely managed to return the woman's smile and cheery farewell before she was hustling out of the hospital.

She forced her face into a blank mask, dodging around patients, hospital personnel and visitors. Everything was too loud, sound reverberating off the tile floors and taupe walls. Her breath was coming too fast and the edges of her vision were a little blurry.

Then she was out. The automatic doors hissed open, heat and humidity washing over her.

Charlie darted to the side of the doors and leaned against the concrete wall of the hospital. She put her hands on her knees and stared at the cracks spiderwebbing through the sidewalk beneath her feet.

It was a hell of a time to have a reality check.

Nausea made her throat tight, but her mouth was dry. Her breath shortened and her head started to spin. 

Charlie closed her eyes and forced her breath to come slowly in and out. After a long, miserable moment, the vertigo dissipated and she slowly straightened back to her full height. Opening her eyes, she found a few people were giving her odd, nervous looks, like they were unsure if they should help her or not. She swallowed hard and pushed off the wall, walking quickly away from the doors of the hospital.

At least none of the staff had been walking by. That would have been more than a little embarrassing.  

Her heart still pounding in her chest, she headed toward the trolley that would drop her off closest to home. The movement made her feel a little better—a little more in control. By the time she actually got on the trolley, she had stopped feeling nauseous and shaky.

She just couldn't get caught.

Charlie bit her lip at that.

It was a dangerous thought to play with—one that could make her careless. It was a thought she should have had a month and a half ago, when she'd first been mulling over the idea of working for Remi. Or, rather, it was something she should have thought harder about. 

She'd known most of the consequences of agreeing to stitch up gangsters and gunmen. Everyone knew that practicing without a license was illegal. Practicing without an actual degree was even worse.

She just...hadn't really cared.

Charlie leaned to the side, her head resting against the sun-warmed glass of the trolley's window. She took a deep breath, slowly in, then slowly out. In, then out. She did this twice more before she sat up straight.

She just wouldn't get caught. 

Simple as that.

A laugh once more bubbled in her throat before she managed to choke it down. Not getting caught couldn't be that hard. Remi had been getting away with murder—probably literally—for years. A little illegal medicine practiced on people who weren't likely to take her to court shouldn't be that much of a challenge for him to keep covered up.

That was his whole reason for pursuing her in the first place. Discretion. 

The thought was disturbingly comforting. 

The trolley clattered to a stop and she hopped up from her seat, a new spring in her step as she moved to the door and stepped lightly to the pavement. She took a few more deep breaths, just to make sure her moment of anxiety had been truly banished.

You're not in control here.

The thought fluttered nervously through her brain and her heart picked up the tempo. Charlie bit her lip, forcing the breath through her nose so she wouldn't begin to hyperventilate again. Turning onto her street, she breathed a small sigh of relief when she didn't see any expensive, European cars on the curb.

Charlie hurried to the door, her fingers trembling as she pulled her keys from her bag and unlocked it. She slipped into the cool, dark interior and let out a long breath.

"I'm in control," she whispered to herself. "I made this decision. I signed the contract."

Because you had no other option.

Charlie scowled at the snide little voice in her head. That wasn't the point. It was either she do this and become a proper doctor, or she prove every naysayer right and quit.

She had never really been all that good at quitting. So she'd chosen to do whatever it took to get where she wanted to go. 

"My decision," she said again to the empty room. "I decided to stay with him. It was my risk to take. And I did." She nodded firmly, not really sure what she was trying to convince herself of.

Maybe that her life was in her own hands, for once—even if she was gambling with it. 

Feeling minimally better, she looked down at her plain t-shirt and jeans.

I told him to take me to dinner tonight.

Charlie bit her lip, a smile twitching at the corner of her mouth. She might as well make it worth his while.

And hers.

                                                                           §§§

Charlie gave herself one last critical once-over. Her hair flowed in silky, red curls around her face and—after a half hour of trial and error—she'd managed a classic smoky eye that didn't make her look like a giant raccoon. 

She let her eyes flick to the digital clock on the bathroom counter. It was nearly six. Her ears pricked every time she heard an engine. Her heart kept fluttering, her hands shaking a little as she applied the bright red lipstick that always made him look at her mouth.

She realized she hadn't told him what time they should go to dinner.

Part of her was wondering if he was even going to show, but just a small part. Remi was a lot of things—a coward wasn't one of them.

After another moment of dabbing and smoothing the lipstick, she sighed and left the bathroom, crossing the hall to her bedroom. The new shoes she'd bought were still in their box and she sat next to them, staring blankly at the floor.

Why was she so nervous? What about this could be worse than what they'd done last night?

There was no time to consider that question. The sound of a throaty engine reached her ears, dying away right outside. Then there was the sound of a slamming door.

Charlie's heart leapt into her throat and she tore her shoes out of the box, slipping them on. Looking down at her feet, she swore when she realized she hadn't painted her toenails.

But there was no time.

A knock sounded on the front door and she forced herself not to scramble down the stairs. A broken ankle didn't seem like the best way to start off the night. A trip to the emergency room didn't seem like the best way to end it. 

So Charlie placed each step with care, the flowing material of her dress fluttering around her knees. Another knock sounded on the door and she rolled her eyes at his impatience, her heels clicking across the wood floor. She took one more second to smooth the skirt of her dress and brushed her legs against each other, praying she wouldn't find a rogue strip of hair.

She didn't. So she opened the door.

Remi was leaning against the frame, eyes on the street. He slowly turned his head, then straightened up. His eyes swept down, then up her body. Then they made the same trip again, but slower this time.

She couldn't help but preen. She knew she looked good. The powder-blue dress went well with her skin tone and hair color, and the silky material it was made of clung to her curves before swirling down from her hips to just above her knees.

While he looked his fill, she returned the favor. Since the sun had begun to set, she had figured he would be wearing a dark suit. What she hadn't expected was the all-black ensemble. It made his green eyes seem to glow with something otherworldly. Or perhaps unholy. 

He looked like he had the night he'd introduced her to his world. Which was to say, he looked like the Devil himself.

The irony of that was not lost on her.

"Turn around," Remi suddenly said, his husky drawl making something heat in her core.

She quirked an eyebrow. "I told you to take me to dinner." Anything else would come after. 

Remi smirked, his hands in his pockets. "So you did."

They had a small staring match, then Charlie rolled her eyes and turned around. She shivered when she felt him step up behind her, his chest brushing against her back. Her breath caught when his lips touched her ear as he whispered, "Close your eyes."

He was very good at the whole seduction thing when he put his mind to it. Idly, Charlie wondered if he really had to try all that hard with her, or if she simply allowed herself to fall for it. He whispered his command again, this time nipping at her earlobe.

How he knew she hadn't closed her eyes was a mystery to her.

With a perhaps dramatic sigh, she did as he said. There was the soft shifting sound of cloth, then something cold touched the hollow of her throat. Her eyes flew open, her fingers darting up to grasp the pendant as he gently did the clasp and pulled her hair free of the chain.

Almost afraid to look down, Charlie let her fingers move over one, two...five different stones. With a stunned little gasp, she looked down, eyeing the pendant as best she could.

There was absolutely no doubt in her mind that the diamonds were real and very, very expensive, judging by how they sparkled and winked in the low light. Slowly, she let the pendant fall back to rest just below where her collarbones met.

"What is this?" she asked, voice low and flat. She started to turn, but he gripped her elbows, keeping her back pressed against his chest. "Why did you buy this?"

"Do you not like it?" he asked before he ducked his head, kissing just under her ear.

Charlie's fingers went back up to the necklace. "That's not what I said. Why did you buy it?"

"Because..." He let the word draw out and hang between them. "I wanted to."

Now she scoffed and pulled from his grasp, turning to face him. A very self-satisfied expression was on his face, like a cat who'd gotten more than its share of cream. She narrowed her eyes. "I just wanted to go to dinner. I didn't ask for this."

She couldn't help but wonder what his motives were.

Remi's expression turned to one of puzzlement. He cocked his head, eyes studying her face. "Are you mad I bought it?" His tone was mostly neutral, with just a hint of irritation and confusion underlying it.

"I just..." Charlie trailed off, shaking her head. "I didn't expect something like this. From you."

Understanding lit in his eyes. He grinned, shrugging. "No skin off my nose. Besides, I'm supposed to buy you pretty things, aren't I?"

What had happened to he didn't know what to do with this thing between them?

"Maybe not something like this on a first date," she said with a frown. 

But then she realized that, for someone as rich as Remi, this wasn't any more than a sparkly trinket. He probably hadn't even blinked at the price tag. Charlie didn't particularly want to consider what number might have been on that price tag.

Then she realized first date probably wasn't entirely accurate, either.

Amusement welled in her and she shook her head, fingers once again playing with the pendant. She'd never owned anything like this. His eyes drifted to her throat and he took another step forward.

"Do you not like it?" he asked again, his voice low, making his accent even richer. 

Charlie shook her head. "I do. But why did you buy it?"

It was almost...romantic. And it was disconcerting. A tiger masquerading as a house cat. 

He blinked once, then shrugged. "Isn't that what most men do when they're dating a beautiful woman?"

Understanding flooded through her, banishing her discomfort.

"Ah," she said softly. Not exactly romance so much as mimicry. Something he thought he should do, not something he'd done because of how it would affect her. That made more sense. She gave him a small smile. "I suppose it is."

He cocked his head, a predatory glint in his eyes that made her bite the inside of her lip. "I do have to confess an ulterior motive," he whispered.

How could he make the word confess sound like something so damning? 

Charlie just raised an eyebrow, trying to keep her breath steady. He reached up, lightly grazing his fingers over the pendant, then along her collarbone and up her throat. Goosebumps prickled over her arms.

He moved a little closer, so she had to tip her head back to meet his eyes. "When I saw it," he purred, "I thought they would look nice on you in the low light of some restaurant." He dipped his head a little, his mouth bare centimeters away from hers. "And then I thought about how they would look when we got back here, and you wore nothing but the diamonds."

Her breath gusted out in surprise, heat flooding her veins. It took every scrap of willpower she still possessed not to drag him down into a violent kiss. She swallowed against her dry throat and managed a wry smile.

"Who says I'll want to wear them?" she said.

Remi laughed softly, the sound brushing across her mouth. "I think you will."

"I think," she rose onto her toes and brushed her lips against his, "that it'll depend on how nice the dinner is."

He rocked forward as she pulled away and she gave him a wink before all but sashaying out the door. She heard as he muttered something, but didn't quite catch the words. Still, she had to stifle a snicker as she walked toward an unfamiliar car with sleek curves and paint that gleamed in the streetlight.

Maybe she really was more in control than she'd previously thought.