"I said I would, didn't I?" I gesture toward the car. "Get in."
She hesitates, searching my face for the trap. But I keep my expression neutral, my body language relaxed.
After a long moment, she walks to the car and slides into the passenger seat.
I get behind the wheel and start the engine.
She thinks this is over. Thinks she's won. Thinks she can just walk away from me and fly back to her empty apartment and her useless blog and her mother who poisoned her against me.
She has no idea.
The airport is south. I turn north.
She doesn't notice at first. She's too busy staring out the window, arms crossed, radiating fury.
But after ten minutes, she frowns. Looks around at the darkening landscape.
"This isn't the way to the airport."
"No," I agree. "It's not."
"Phoenix." Her voice sharpens. "Where are we going?"
I don't answer.
"Phoenix. Turn around. Now."
I keep driving. The city lights fade behind us. The road narrows, winding up into the hills.
"What are you doing?" Real fear creeps into her voice now. "Where are you taking me?"
I glance at her—at this woman who just destroyed my business deal, humiliated me in front of everyone who matters, tried to walk away from me like I'm someone she can simply leave.
"Somewhere we can talk," I say.
"I don't want to talk. I want to go home."
"Too bad."
She reaches for her phone. I'm faster—my hand closing over hers, plucking it from her grasp.
"Give that back."
"No."
"Phoenix, this is insane?—"
"Probably." I tuck her phone into my jacket pocket. "But you're not leaving. Not tonight. Not until we finish this."
"Finish what? There's nothing to finish! You used me. End of story."
"That's not the end." I look at her, letting her see the full weight of what I'm feeling. The anger. The desperation. The obsession I've barely kept leashed since the moment I first saw her. "That's not even close to the end."
She shrinks back against the door, her dark eyes wide.
"You can hate me," I continue, turning my attention back to the road. "You can scream at me, hit me, call me every name you can think of. But you're going to hear me out first."
"And if I refuse?"
