“I figured it was pointless, you paying for an Uber, when your place is on the way to the venue. Plus”—he chuckles and pulls a set of keys from his pocket—“I wanted to show you my new car.”
A Ferrari key chain flashes as he turns the keys around on his fingers.
I balk at him. “But didn’t you just buy a new car with your signing bonus?”
Lifting a single shoulder, he steps toward me again. I have nowhere to go this time, my back now flat against the door.
“I did. However, I also have three allotted spaces in the parking lot, and it seemed a shame to let two go to waste.” He takes my hand and opens my palm, dropping the keys into it.
I look up at him and shake my head. “You’re a flashy bastard, William.”
His smirk should irritate me. Instead, it pulls a bubble of laughter from my chest.
“Can you drive in those heels?” he asks, bottom lip pinned between his teeth.
I continue shaking my head. “Oh, no, absolutely not. No way.”
He nods at me. “Rule one: The publicist must drive her client to events whenever he asks her to.”
Emboldened by his cocksure attitude, I take a step toward him. “It’s me who makes the rules around here. And I’m not your chauffeur, so don’t start crossing those boundaries. My responsibility extends to your public image and no further.”
I swear I see his eyes dart down the length of my body, but again, I could be imagining things.
“There’s nothing wrong with bending the rules from time to time. Live a little, Drew.”
He’s switched his cologne up tonight. It’s something woodsier, but just as nice.
My eyes drop to the keys. “Does it have a stick shift?”
His chuckle is more of a rumble. “It does, but you can use the paddles attached to the steering wheel.”
“I’ll need to cancel my Uber, and I’ll probably be charged if the driver’s already sitting outside, waiting for me.”
Will shrugs, like wasting money is no big deal to him. I guess it isn’t. I’m willing to bet that there’s well over seven figures sitting in his checking account right now, and that’s after buying whatever four-wheeled monstrosity is waiting for me downstairs.
“Why are you like this?” I ask, our eyes meeting again.
“Like what?”
I look off to the side and release a slow, calming breath. “Impulsive, testing, annoying, reckless?—”
“Fun.” He cuts me off with his own description.
“If that’s what you call it,” I choke out. “Tonight was supposed to be about you arriving in an understated way and maybe making a couple of donations to this year’s nominated charity before exchanging a few words with the sponsors and making your leavequietly. Not in a supercar, driven by the publicist whose job it is to enforce all of the above.”
I know my protest is falling on deaf ears. Being honest, I’m not sure how much I ever believed that Will would follow my guidelines for tonight.
“You don’t just bend the rules, Will. You play by none of them at all.”
What I just said was supposed to be a warning, but Will only takes it as a compliment. Sometimes, I envy the confidence he has in himself.
“You know what I’ve come to realize about you, Drew?”
I raise a challenging brow. “What’s that, Hotshot?”
Reaching around me, he depresses the handle on my front door, and we both step out into the hallway.
Looks like we’re really going to arrive together then.
