“Are you walking home?” His eyebrows furrowed and his lips curled with displeasure.
I turned away from his intense eyes.
“Yes,” I answered. The next bus would leave if I didn’t get going. Another shiver wracked my body, and the gust of wind whipped the drizzle into a flurry. He moved to block me from the onslaught. “I hope you have a restful day . . .” I trailed off and squeezed my eyes tight once more. With a quick shake of my head, I collected myself and turned to leave. His next words stopped me once again.
“I’ll take you home.”
“I couldn’t, Mr. Astor,” I exclaimed, spinning around and taking one step back. He was standing by his car, holding the back door open.
“Miss Cervantes, get in my car.” The order had me straightening and dipping my head to the dominance in his tone. “Now, please.” The ‘please’ seemed to be an afterthought. I licked my lips, looked out into the drizzle, then back to him, and sighed.
“Yes, Sir.” My shoes slogged over the damp cement, and I hesitated at the door he held open. “I don’t want to ruin a car worth more than my life’s—” I cut off on a squeal. He took hold of the back of my neck and forced me inside. A driver sat in the front, and he didn’t react to my presence or his boss’s behavior.
I perched on the edge of the seat, trying to keep my damp clothes off it. He slid in on the other side.
He clicked his tongue in a disapproving sound. I lowered my eyes. Again, I’d done something to bother him. Reaching over, he nudged me from my belly until my back flattened against the seat. He reached over to grab the seat belt.
“Address?”
I rattled it off. The driver detached from the round drive and into the semi-congested traffic. It wasn’t as bad as I’d seen it get in the evenings.
“Your shoes are wet,” he commented with a frown.
I scooted my feet together and cleared my throat. “Sorry.”
He sighed. “I’m not chastising you. Why are you walking around so late in the rain?” I didn’t want to get Judy in trouble, so I kept my mouth shut and offered a small shrug.
He settled back, arm stretched over the seat so his hand hovered close to my head. He tapped the leather, seemingly deep in thought.
Mr. Astor looked at me and I turned away. The tapping resumed. I studied the passing lights. The drive should take twenty minutes, tops, but on public transport, it usually took me forty minutes to an hour.
A low classical station played in the background. I peeked over at him again. From what I’d seen, most of his family held a regal air, but to me, he seemed the most elegant and attention-grabbing.
Then there was his charm, he was known to get his way in everything and it’d been attributed to that.
“Is something the matter?”
I jumped. I’d been staring at him, verging on gawking. How embarrassing. I couldn’t be warmer than I already was. I felt like an oven. He smiled and that dimple was devastating. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach.
I clasped my clammy hands together.
“Sir, I’m sorry for entering your office without knocking. I shouldn’t have done that.”
He nodded once with a hum. I didn’t know what he was thinking because I couldn’t bring myself to look at him again.
We settled into silence again. The driver pulled down the road and the closer we got to my building, the more downtrodden the conditions became.
“You live too far from Astor Industries.”
I kept my lips sealed.
“Mr. Astor, would you like me to continue driving?”
“No, pull up here at the front,” I said.
“Do as she says, Billings.” And just like that he pulled to a stop at the front of my building.
I hurried to unbuckle myself and hopped out. The heat coating my body turned unpleasant. I needed to go eat something, maybe I felt faint because I only had a granola bar today.
