My hands tighten on the steering wheel, and my hackles rise.
Relax, Reese.Benedict has no idea that you have this job.
He’s observant, but unless he’s stalking me or somehow tracking me like I’m a fugitive on the run, how would he know?
When I pull up to the curb, I glance out the passenger side window and wait for someone to approach. I tap my fingers on the center console and stare at the open bag of Skittles in the cup holder. I pop a red one into my mouth and suck on the sweet candy until the door opens.
A familiar manly drawl hits my ears. “Interesting to see you here, darling.”
I nearly suffocate on Benedict’s expensive cologne.
How the hell–
There is no way this is a coincidence. I may have some bad luck, but it’s not like I broke a mirror and became cursed for years to come.
“Benedict.” His name on my tongue may taste like poison, but I’ve thankfully perfected myboredtone when it comes to him.
There is no way I’m letting him know that I’m all riled up. He likes to pretend that he knows me well enough to see right through me, but he doesn’t. He didn't two years ago, and he surely doesn’t now.
He turns toward me in the passenger seat and stretches his long legs out in front of him. With his 6’3” frame, his knees practically touch the dash. I stare at his fingers tapping up and down on his pant leg.
“So this is your new job?” His tone drips with disgust.
My foot is glued to the brake. I’m not taking him anywhere.
“I’ve gotta pay the bills somehow,” I say.
I learned at a very young age what happens when you don’t pay the bills.
Spoiler alert: the electric company doesn’t care if it’s twenty degrees outside. If you don’t pay the bill, you’ll nearly freeze to death in your own home.
He rolls his eyes. “You act like there is no other option.”
I scoff. “There isn’t.”
His jaw flexes. There’s a tiny bit of stubble dotting the sharp edge of his chin, and I’m pretty sure that’s lipstick on the collar of his shirt. He’s in expensive slacks, with a white button-up shirt, sans his suit jacket. He either left it at home or gave it to some woman at the club we’re idling in front of.
“There is,” he argues. “If you were to get over that nasty streak of independence you have and move in with me, I’d take care of you. I could give you anything you want.”
A laugh flies from my mouth at the absurdity. Move in with him? Give me anything I want? Why? Just so he can use it against me and guilt me into a relationship with him? No, thank you.
Benedict’s smooth expression flickers like a light switch. His eyebrows crowd together, and his lips flatten with irritation.
“I’m getting tired of this cat-and-mouse game, Reese.” The charming Benedict is long gone, and in his place is the man he hides well.
“I’m not playing games.” I remain calm, but on the inside, I'm sweating with dread because I know what’s coming next.
A threat.
I grip onto the steering wheel for stability and focus on the worn leather beneath my palms, digging my nails into its soft skin.
“I think you like the chase.” Benedict's voice cuts through the ringing in my ears.
When I say nothing, he adjusts in the seat next to me, his hands clenching to make fists again. His longing stare shifts into a glare, and I start to sweat.
“You fucking love knowing that I can’t stop thinking about you, don’t you?”
I could smack him.
