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My skin itches with the need to know more about her. But going into the files in the office while Jac is here isn’t an option.

She’s pulled me in. She and that damn colour triggered something inside of me that I’ve kept at bay for a long time.

I spot a head of thick blonde locks ahead of me. My heart skips a beat as I realise it’s her. She turns her head both ways before she crosses the road. There’s stiffness in her movements now—no longer the flawless twists and turns on the pole.

“Sir?” Ezra’s deep voice cuts through my daze.

I blink away from her, just for a split second. “Yeah, stay. Regroup in the morning,” I state, and like a fish caught on a hook, I take off after her.

I keep to every shadowed corner I can find, my footsteps light and quick. As if she senses me, she picks up a brisk walk in her six-inch heels. I can almost feel her rapid breaths from here.

My heart jackhammers in my chest at the proximity. At the fact it’s just me and her here. No audience, no security.

Just me and her.

Now, I could do the normal thing and approach her. But she seems on edge already, and the last thing I want to do is scare her away before I’ve even had a chance to speak to her.

She passes my car and turns right, heading straight for a run-down-looking Renault.

That better not be her car.

She swings the door open, almost hitting the car next to hers, and dives into the front seat, slamming the door.

Her car is parked right opposite mine. It’s like the universe has brought her right to me on purpose.

I swiftly move towards my grey McLaren 720S with blacked-out windows and slip inside. A couple walks from the opposite end of the car park, so I use that distraction to slam my door shut. Her car sways gently to the side as she frantically searches her surroundings, and I catch her wide-open eyes in my right wing mirror. It seems like she’s looking right at me, but she’s not. She still can’t see me.

Good.

The last thing I need is for her to think I’m a creep.

I’m simply intrigued. And she’s alone. I want to make sure my employee gets home safe.

Her engine rattles to life, and I watch as she pulls out of the car park. Waiting a few seconds, I slide a black hoodie over my head before following her out.

I follow her through the quiet streets, a few stragglers now littering the pavements, waiting for their taxis home or vomiting. She takes the slip road leading onto the motorway, and I slam my palm against the leather wheel in frustration. It’s the middle of the night, the motorways are empty, and she’ll definitely spot me. Not that she’ll know it’s my car, but it’s not a risk I’m willing to take. I press my foot on the accelerator, the car rumbling with speed, and race past her. I slow down when her headlights become smaller with distance. That way I can still see her, but to her, I probably just look like a dickhead driver looking for a bit of adrenaline late at night.

It’s a long way wherever she’s headed, and the longer I can’t see her, the more my fingers itch with the need to just cut her car off and get into her passenger seat. Just so I can get one more look.

She switches lanes, which tells me she’s about to take the slip road off the motorway. I jam my foot on the brake, stopping in the middle of the lane and making a three-point turn back towards the slip road, again waiting a few seconds before I continue following her, my knee bouncing with impatience. We finally get back onto a normal residential road. I turn my headlights off, keeping a few metres back from her so she doesn’t spot me. I speed forwards and pull over on the side of a road when she turns right into the gated-off area. Rushing out of my car, I climb over the brick wall attached to the gate she just drove through. There’s only one apartment block—makes things easier for me. And just my luck, someone exits through the main door. It’s an elderly woman, dressed in a fluffy pink dressing gown and holding an unlit cigarette, who spots me running towards her.

She smiles warmly and holds the door open for me. “What time do you call this, mister? Let’s hope your girlfriend doesn’t have a fit over you getting home this late,” she berates me like she knows me. The big glasses taking up most of the space on her face tells me she probably can’t see me very well.

I won’t take my chances at not getting inside the building I hope is my prey’s. I thank the woman and slip inside, throwing the hood over my head and finding a corner to hide in in the brightly lit space. Which isn’t fucking easy, by the way. There is no corner to hide in. I opt for the next best thing, which is leaning up against the tower of silver mailboxes and pretending to scroll my phone. The little woman disappears from the window in the door.

A few seconds later, my stomach plummets with nerves as the door opens, letting the gentle wind of the night float through, followed by a sweet vanilla scent before it shuts. A few silent breaths are all that fill the air. The hairs on my arms stand on alert as I twist my head and see her.

Fuck. What was I thinking? I need to get out of here.

I pocket my phone and approach her from behind. She starts backing away from the door, and the hallway isn’t big enough for me to move away. She collides with my chest. Her body falls to the side, but I gently grab her by the elbow. A million lightning strikes zap up my arm at the contact, and my breath catches.

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going,” she rushes out nervously. Her dulcet voice laced with warmth shoots straight to my dick.

I make sure she’s steady, and then my hand is already at the handle, pulling it open. I need to put space between me and her before I do something I’ll probably regret later.

“That’s okay,” I mumble as the door shuts behind me.

I speed-walk out of the gates, crossing the yellow-lit road and leaning against a brick wall. I throw my head back, pulling in easing breaths.