He does that thing where he ignores me again and weaves his fingers through mine. "Come on."
I follow along because what other choice do I have, and gladly hold his hand as we walk out the door and wait for the private elevator to arrive. One of the perks of very few of the units in this building is their private elevators, perfect for A-list celebrities who need a little extra privacy from even their neighbors.
I'm a nobody though, and that perk is wasted on me, but it sure is nice to have the added bonus.
"What kind of key is it?" I ask him and try to peek into his other hand to see for myself.
Miller holds the key fob in his palm and I recognize the Porsche logo immediately.
I nearly gasp. "You bought me a Porsche?"
"Maybe." He pauses and says, "Maybe I just bought you this." Miller waves the key in the air and squeezes my hand gently. "Hey." His tone shifts. "You feeling okay? I know you're eager to see London but you really do need your rest."
"I'm good, really." And because I know he won't believe me, I decide to elaborate on the truth. "Don't get me wrong, I feel like I got run over by a bus, but it's not unbearable. I can handle it, seriously. I need to see her, and then I promise I'll go back to resting. Well, until I have to go to work tomorrow."
He pivots his body toward me. "You're going into the office tomorrow?"
"I need to."
"Can't you say you're working from The Wellerton for a couple more days? I can call and have it arranged, it's not a big deal."
"Miller." I place my hand on his shoulder. "While I appreciate everything you do for me, this ismycareer,myjob. Please don't interfere with that."
His jaw tenses, and I worry that he's going to explode on me, the idea of him getting mad somehow making me regret putting my foot down.
But then he surprises me by saying, "I understand."
"You do?" I ask him, unsure if he's fucking with me.
"Yes." He tucks a strand of the hair he brushed for me behind my ear. "I'd be stupid to try to control you. Doesn't mean I won't try from time to time, but I know, ultimately, every decision you make is yours." Miller moves a bit when the elevator reaches the bottom floor. "I won't be another man in your life that takes that away from you."
The elevator dings before the door opens, both of us standing there, our eyes locked on each other.
"Are you real?" My voice is barely a whisper.
Miller smiles softly. "Yes, babe, I am very real."
"You're just so..." I try to think of the right words to say but all of them seem to fall flat. "Thoughtful? Nice? Considerate? Romantic?" I step out of the elevator and glance in both directions, unsure which way to go.
"Don't tell anyone." Miller follows me out. "I have a reputation to uphold." He winks at me and tilts his head. "This way."
"Oh, right, yourreputation." I laugh. "How many people have you killed this week?"
He glances back at me. "Just two. It’s been a slow week."
I wait for him to break his serious character, but he doesn't. "You're not joking."
"No. I'm not." He stops walking in front of a white Porsche, holding the key fob out and unlocking it.
I halt beside him. "This isnotmine."
He nudges my arm gently with his elbow. "It is, but when we're together, I drive." Miller focuses on me. "No more Ubers and walking around town. You have a car now."
"What if I like walking?"
"Then I'll get you a treadmill."
"What if I like walking outside?"
