“You’re oddly worried about my food intake, Mr. Mills.”
He smirks but doesn’t respond, so I do as he asks, grabbing my proposal for the combined charity event. Maybe I can ask him over lunch what the smaller charities are for since I can’t find anything about them in the company’s system.
“What do you like to eat?” he asks, holding the door open for me.
“I’m not picky.”
“No?” He raises a brow.
“Just because I like to be organized doesn’t mean I’m picky. Or high maintenance,” I add since that’s what most people think when they look at me. “I’m rather easy to please.”
“Is that so?” The amusement hasn’t left his voice.
I roll my eyes, which he catches out of the side of his eye, but doesn’t comment on.
We both wait in silence as the elevator takes us to the first floor. I feel his gaze on me a few times before we step out into the lobby. He lets me lead, following behind, even though I have no idea where we’re going.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Mills. Your car is ready.” An employee occupying the front desk beams at him.
I eye Owen. Why does he want me to call him by his first name when no one else here does?
“Thank you, Miss Auburn,” he says, holding the door open for me, a knowing look in his eyes.
I walk out, my heels clicking loudly on the concrete, and stop in front of an obscenely expensive, red SF90 Stradale Ferrari. I expected he owned expensive cars; he’s a billionaire after all. What I didn’t anticipate was riding in one. I figured he had people who drove him everywhere.
“Do you have something against sports cars, Miss Riley?”
Realizing that I am staring at the car while he holds the passenger door open for me, I quickly compose myself. “Nothing against them. In fact, I quite enjoy driving them.”
He halts me as I attempt to duck into the passenger seat. “Why don’t you drive us to lunch, Miss Riley?That way you can have some fun, and I can learn what you like to eat.”
Is this some sort of test? Seeing whether I’m telling the truth? If it is, two can play this game.
Not hesitating, I walk over to the driver's side, pulling off my heels and throwing them into his lap as he settles himself next to me. He lets out an amused chuckle, clutching my shoes and staring at my bare feet.
I adjust the seat and mirrors. He’s much larger than I am, and everything is programmed to his height. When I’m satisfied, I turn and find him watching me with a look I can’t read.
When his gaze finds mine, he asks, “Where to?”
I smirk, turning my attention back to the road. “You’ll see.”
Driving the short distance to the coast, we make our way north on the winding roads that line the cliffs leading to the ocean. It’s my favorite drive, and the car easily glides around the tight turns. Before I know it, my whole body relaxes into the easy feel of the wheel beneath my hands and the road beneath the tires.
“Where’d you learn to drive cars like this?” Owen asks out of the blue.
“My father. He was into fast cars.”
“Was?”
I nod, not wanting to explain. Not wanting to relive what happened. Not needing his pity.
Owen seems to understand and changes the subject. “Where are we going? I’m starting to think you’re kidnapping me.”
I smile deceptively. “Perhaps I am, but if I were, I’m not sure you’d be mad about it.”
Owen raises a brow, a half-smirk on his lips. I can’t read his face, though, and I’m worried I’ve already crossed a boundary on only my second day of work.
I slow the car, turning left into a small, gravel parking lot, suddenly aware he might not want me parking his expensive car in the dirt.
