Chapter 10
We’re the only ones on the elevator ride down, which makes sense because it’s really late. I’m tense everywhere, doing my best to ignore how isolated we are. He hasn’t bothered putting on his jacket, so it rests over his forearm. I’m still reeling from the fact that I’ll have a temporary desk in his office. Frankly, I still think it’s some kind of long-winded joke he’s pulling on me. No way he means it.
“I’m sorry for keeping you here so late,” he says, breaking the silence in the small space. “I hope you didn’t have any plans.”
There’s no point in guilt-tripping him for a decision I made myself, so I reply, “Nothing that couldn’t be rescheduled.” Then, I impulsively ask, “Are yousureyou want me to work in your office?”
“It’ll only be for a month. Two at best. Just enough time for us to get the ball rolling.”
I face the stainless steel door again with a, “Hmm…”
He leans to the side toward me, and when I gaze up, he’s holding back a smirk. “I swear I’ll try not to insult you too often.”
The self-deprecation in his voice makes a giggle bubble in my chest. Maybe he isn’t as conceited as I thought.
Moments later, we reach the lobby. “Are you okay getting home?” he asks.
“Yes, I’m pretty sure the buses do their routes until midnight.”
“I can drop you off if you want.”
Although the offer is both generous and tempting, there’s no way I’ll sit with him in his car for twenty minutes. “I’m good, thanks.” Before he can insist, I step out. “I’ll see you on Monday,” I say, forcing a smile. “Enjoy your weekend.”
“You too. Thank you again for your time.”
Seriously, I’m not getting used to this man being polite and pleasant.
A sense of relief fills me when the panels close behind me. Phew… I did it! I survived an entire evening by his side without spontaneous combustion or a heated argument. I need an underwear change, though.
My satisfaction goes to shit when I reach the revolving doors. It’s raining cats and dogs. Fuck. Since it’s not like I have a choice, I step out and walk at a quick pace, desperate to reach the bus stop before I’m soaked to the bone. Thankfully, my computer bag is waterproof, so I’m not risking much more than a cold. The street is eerily empty, without a car or person in sight. I’m reaching the corner of the building when a sleek gray car, a Mercedes halfway between a sedan and a sports car, slows down next to me. Just as I’m about to pick up the pace, the passenger window opens.
“Get in, Andrea. I’ll drop you off at your bus stop.”
Oh, fuck… It’shim.
“I’m good,” I answer. I don’t like commanding tones, which is another reason why our dynamic is complicated.
“Stop being so stubborn for half a second and get in.”
When I halt my steps, he hits the brakes. As we determinedly stare at each other, I try to remember why I shouldn’t get into his car. Maybe I’m overreacting a little bit.
I know I’m just being stubborn again, like he said, so I bite my tongue and obey for once. My face is a mask of discontent as I walk to his car, and it remains that way as I enter the luxurious vehicle.
“You take your bus on Pike Street?” he asks. I nod, my eyes on the windshield wipers, rhythmically chasing raindrops.
He switches to Drive, and we’re off. I know nothing about cars, but this one’s high-end for sure. Even the blinker sound is lush. Alexander’s driving is pleasant and experienced, and I sometimes glance at his hands smoothly gliding over the steering wheel. I can’t help but wonder how those strong fingers and palms would feel on my skin, grazing it like that.
What stage of craziness is it when you wish you were a steering wheel?
I’m somehow disappointed when we reach my bus stop. As I’m about to get out, he stops me, putting his hand over my forearm. The simple contact sends shivers all the way to my chest, and I look toward where he’s pointing.
The electronic sign where the bus times are usually displayed only reads three fateful words.STRIKE! SERVICE INTERRUPTED.
Defeated, I blow out my cheeks before throwing my head back. “I can drive you home,” he kindly offers.
For the umpteenth time this evening, he’s unusually amiable, and I want to grab his shoulders and shake him out of it. It’s so much simpler when he’s a one-dimensional jerk. If my body acts the way it does whenhe’s rude and arrogant, how will it behave if he turns out to be a nice guy?
“I’ll get myself an Uber,” I suggest. But that solution quickly falls flat. With the bus strike, everyone’s using such alternatives. I’d have to wait for forty-five minutes to get a ride home.
