“I’ll wait outside.”
I rolled my eyes again, but this time I turned away from him before I did. “Suit yourself.”
He closed the door behind him and I took the time to change into jeans and a t-Shirt. The jeans would be hot, but I wasn’t ready for E.G. to see my legs in the single pair of jean shorts I owned. A pair of jeans I’d worn so thread bare, I’d cut them and made them into shorts.
I pulled out my duffle bag and started throwing all my non-work clothes in haphazardly. I didn’t have much. My work clothes, however, I kept on hangers in the small closet. Those would have to be spread out in the back seat of his car so they didn’t wrinkle.
My toiletries were limited to shampoo, conditioner, toothpaste and deodorant. I used the complimentary hotel soap, so no need to pack that.
Other than that, there was a hairbrush, a toothbrush, and because I was cash flush these days, a tube of mascara that I’d been practicing with to no great results so far. I shoved all of it into a side compartment of the duffle bag.
The only thing of value I had was the company laptop. I’d been nervous bringing it back to the motel at first, for fear it would have made me a target. I was always careful to hide it in a paper grocery bag any time I was leaving or coming home with it.
I could have left it at the office, but E.G. would often send me emails or IMs to make a note of things that had to be handled in the office the next day. It just made things easier to always have the laptop with me. I stuck it and the charger cord on top of my clothes inside the tote bag I used to carry my lunch and heels to the office.
Just one last thing. In the back of the bottom drawer.
Leave it. If you leave it, you can pretend it never happened.
Except, I couldn’t. There never any point in pretending shit didn’t happen. I found what I was looking for and pushed it to the bottom of the duffel bag underneath all my clothes.
No more than seven minutes later and I was ready to go. I pulled the six hangers off the rod in the closet and folded my work clothes carefully over my arm and threw the duffle bag over my shoulder.
I stepped outside into the late summer heat of Houston and winced. I’d thought New Jersey was humid in the summer, but Houston was worse.
And no, I really hadn’t considered the whole gun thing when moving.
My only thought had been…away. Someplace new and different.
E.G. was standing next to a black Mercedes in the open space in front of my door. The car was a standout amongst all the parked vehicles, but as long as we were leaving now before the night crowd rolled in, we shouldn’t be hassled.
I took a step but stopped when I saw someone sitting behind the steering wheel.
“It’s just my driver,” he explained. When I hesitated for a second, he opened the back door to the car. “We’re just going a few miles down the road. You can put your stuff in the backseat.”
Wordlessly, he opened the back door so I could lay out my work clothes along the length of the seat. I stuffed my duffle bag onto the car floor and got in, directly behind the driver’s seat.
E.G. walked around the car and got into the front passenger seat.
“Marriott Extended Stay. On Connor Street,” he told his driver.
In a few seconds, we were backing away from the hotel room. I would call the front desk when I got where I was going. Let them know I’d left at least, even though I knew I wasn’t getting my money back for the days not used.
“Put your seatbelt on,” E.G. snapped, looking over his shoulder to where I was sitting.
I leaned back against the leather and pulled the seatbelt over my chest. Realizing everything had happened so fast and probably without enough of a fight from me, I found myself annoyed.
“You know, you make an excellent kidnapper. If the whole billionaire thing doesn’t work out for you.”
“My tolerance for smart asses doesn’t diminish outside the office,” he replied, then faced forward.
The car was the perfect temperature. Cool, without being freezing. The seat was butter soft.
“Fuuuuck,” I said, as I sank into the luxury of the car. “You could just let me live in this car and I’d be good.”
“Pass.”
The driver didn’t say anything, just kept his head forward. But as we turned onto the street with a row of hotels, E.G. turned to me again.
