Just like Mr. Krabs in the popular kids’ cartoon,SpongeBob, my grandfather was greedy and wouldn’t mind selling the world for his own gain.
I hated him. I hated him so much.
My grip tightened around the steering wheel as I drove to the restaurant, the venue where I was supposed to meet my future husband. A blend of anger and sadness washed over me as Dido’s 1998 classic “Thank You” filled the car’s cabin.
“My tea’s gone cold, I’m wondering why
I got out of bed at all
The morning rain clouds up my window
And I can’t see at all
And even if I could, it’d all be grey….”
Lost in the music and the slow beat, I didn’t realize when a vehicle popped up in front of me. Everything happened so fast, and I almost crashed into it. My eyes widened in horror as I slammed on the brakes, my car’s tires screeching to an abrupt halt.
Thanks to my strapped-in seatbelt, I didn’t dash my head against the steering wheel. My heart raced in my chest, my fingers combing my hair backward. I watched the driver in front of me wind down his tinted glass window. And that’s when something snapped inside me.
“Son of a bitch,” I murmured under my breath and opened my car door. “What is wrong with you?!” I raised my voice, stepping out of the vehicle. “Don’t you know how to drive? You almost killed me!”
The man alighted from his sleek black SUV—tall, lean, built like a predator. His dark brown hair was slicked back, and his eyes, an uncommon pale gray, were flat and unreadable, like winter ice. He was dressed in a tailored charcoal suit, a pair of leather gloves, and polished, expensive shoes.
His presence was commanding, and I didn’t need to be a psychic to know that he was no ordinary man. He reeked of wealth and power, and when he moved, every step seemed deliberate—calculated.
Fuck, he’s handsome.
The man was attractive, the scent of his cologne intoxicating. For a moment there, I almost forgot myself until he spoke, and the arrogance in his tone snapped me back to reality.
He looked at me, then at my car and how close I’d come to bashing his SUV. “You talk too much for a woman who almost dented my vehicle,” he said, his voice calm but dripping with condescension.
My brows arched in disbelief. “Are you kidding me?You’rethe one who popped out of nowhere. Your license should be revoked because you clearly don’t know how to drive!” I blurted out, my words sharp as a knife.
Silence.
His gaze shifted to my car, where Dido’s song was still playing. “Lemme guess,” he began, “you’re having a bad day.You were thinking about your miserable life while driving and listening to that song. You didn’t see me coming because you were distracted by your own thoughts.” The words were spoken in a calm, yet annoying manner.
What the hell?
I hated how accurately this stranger could read me without breaking a sweat. But what I hated most was that arrogance in his tone.
“So tell me, which one of us should have their license revoked?” he added, his expression blank.
I locked my jaw, my scowl deepening. “You rich folks love going around intimidating the average citizens, don’t you?”
“Rich folks?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “I merely analyzed your bad behavior. What does that have to do with wealth?”
I honestly hadn’t meant to go down that path, but it was the only thing I could think of at the moment.
He continued, “Oh, I forgot, you poor people always see everything as a show of power. So maybe I should prove you right and make a phone call to have your license revoked.”
My brows knitted together, blood boiling with rage. “Do it. I dare you,” I said. “You might have money, but I’m a lawyer. So try me.”
Silence.
He just stared at me with a faint smirk slowly tugging at the corners of his lips.
I glanced at my watch and realized that I was already five minutes late for my supposed date. My grandfather’s words suddenly echoed in my head about how my fiancé hated being kept waiting. I couldn’t afford to jeopardize this date, for the sake of my mother at least.
