Lyra Moreau brought Dorian Cross's sleek sports car to a gentle stop in front of the Emperor Palace Hotel, ignoring his increasingly fidgety demeanor in the passenger seat.
"Finally," Dorian muttered, checking his watch for the fifth time in as many minutes. "I thought we'd never get here."
Lyra smiled pleasantly, removing her hands from the steering wheel. "Safety first, Mr. Cross. Better late than never."
Dorian ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair, clearly frustrated. "Ms. Moreau, when I asked you to drive my car here, I didn't expect you to treat it like a hearse in a funeral procession."
"You specifically asked me to be careful with your 'baby,'" Lyra reminded him, amusement dancing in her eyes. "I believe your exact words were 'don't put a single scratch on her.'"
Dorian sighed dramatically. "Yes, but I didn't mean for you to drive twenty miles below the speed limit the entire way!"
A valet approached the driver's side window, and Lyra rolled it down.
