“What kind of boss would I be if I didn’t make sure my employees weresafe?”
Safe. The word hits me harder than it should.
“You think my waiting alone across the street renders me unsafe?” I say back, realizing it sounds a little petulant.
Sloane purses his lips.
“I think the world is a dangerous place,” he says ominously. “And those in my employ aremineto protect.”
He leads me through the lobby and to the elevators. I’m acutely aware of how silent it is, how empty the building is. I could hear a pin drop. There’s not even a custodian in sight.
“Are we the only ones here?” I ask. The monitors are off and the only light is the low overhead lights and the blue glow emanating through the glass.
“Yes,” he says plainly as the elevator opens up.
He motions for me to step in.
“After you.”
I step inside, feeling the familiar flush in my cheeks. Sloane steps in behind me, settling on the opposite side. I glance at the space between us.
It’s not much, but it feels like a canyon, and there is a strange sort of magnetism that makes me want to close it. I scoot over an inch, and he pretends not to notice, but… I see the flash of his gaze to where I stand.
The quietness is damn near suffocating, and then the door opens. He steps out, leading the way and I follow him down a flight of stairs into what looks like a private garage.
There’s only one car—a sleek, shiny black BMW with blue LED lighting emanating from beneath the car as it roars to life.
It looks like something straight out of—
“Very Tron of you,” I say with a smile.
He turns to me, raising an eyebrow. “You know Tron?”
“Know it? It was my dad’s favorite movie,” I say, remembering my conversation with Chicora.
I watch his smile lift, his eyes lighting up.
“The original or the remake?” he asks as he opens the passenger door for me. I look at him as he stands there, hand on the edge of the door.
The harsh parking lot lighting makes him look a little washed out, but otherwise… he looks young. Vibrant. Youthful.
“The original. Obviously,” I say as I get into the car. My heart is in my damn throat as the luxurious scent of leather and spice fills my lungs when he closes the door.
It takes a moment for him to get in the driver’s seat, and when he does, I feel a sense of panic.
Because I’m alone in an expensive, spicy-smelling car with fucking Sloane Pierce. America’s most eligible bachelor.
He looks at me, his dark eyes settling on my mouth before my eyes. He presses the start button, the music blaring through thespeakers as all the electronics blink and he pulls up his GPS and taps in my address.
I blink, realizing he knows it without having to look. I must look confused, because he gives me an apprehensive gaze.
“It was in your file,” he says.
“Right… my file. My resume. My information…”
He nods. “Feel free to change the music if you like.” His breath evens. “It is important to me that you are… comfortable.”
The nervous laugh that makes its way out of my throat only makes my cheeks flush as I realize there is no way in the world I could ever feel comfortable. Here. Now. With him looking at me likethis.
