CHAPTER 3:THE CAR RIDE
934 Words
The inside of Adrian's car smelled like him. Leather, expensive cologne, and something else I couldn't name. Power, maybe.
I sat stiffly in the passenger seat, arms crossed, staring out the window. Rain slid down the glass in rivers.
"You're wet," Adrian said. His voice was quiet.
"I'm fine."
He reached into the back seat and pulled out a black blazer. His blazer. He held it out to me.
"Take it."
"I don't need—"
"You're shivering," he cut me off.
I hesitated, then took it. It was warm. It smelled like him. I immediately hated that I liked it.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"My penthouse," he said, eyes on the road. "It's private. We can talk."
"Your penthouse," I repeated. "Right. Because that's not suspicious at all."
Adrian's mouth twitched. Almost a smile. "Do you think I'm going to kidnap you?"
"I think you already ruined my life once."
The car went silent.
We drove for 10 minutes without speaking. The city lights blurred past us. I kept my eyes on the buildings, on anything but him.
But I could feel him looking at me.
"Why did you come back?" I finally asked. "Six months, Adrian. Six months and not one apology. Now suddenly you want to explain?"
Adrian exhaled. "Because I saw your name."
"What?"
"In a rejection email," he said. "A friend sent me a list of applicants for a position at his company. Your name was on it. With a note next to it. 'Blacklisted by A. Cole'."
My stomach dropped.
"That wasn't supposed to happen," he continued. "I was angry that day. I told HR to make sure you wouldn't work in the industry again. I didn't think—"
"You didn't think," I finished for him. "You didn't think about the rent I couldn't pay. The interviews I didn't get. The way people looked at me like I was damaged goods."
"I know," he said, voice rough. "And I'm sorry."
The word sounded foreign coming from him.
We pulled into the underground garage of a skyscraper. Adrian parked and cut the engine, but neither of us got out.
"Why should I believe you?" I asked.
"Because I'm not asking you to come back to the company," he said. "I'm asking you to let me help you. On your terms. New job, new city, whatever you want."
"And what do you get out of it?"
Adrian turned to face me. In the dim light of the garage, he looked younger. Less CEO, more human.
"Closure," he said. "And maybe... a second chance."
My heart did something stupid. It skipped.
"There's no second chance, Adrian. You made sure of that."
"I know," he said. "But let me try anyway."
I looked at the elevator that would take us to his penthouse. 40 floors up. Private. Just him and me.
Every instinct told me to run.
But another part of me, the part that still remembered late nights in his office, the part that remembered how he used to bring me coffee exactly how I liked it... that part wanted answers.
"Fine," I said, unbuckling my seatbelt. "One night. Talk only."
Adrian nodded. "Talk only," he promised.
We got out of the car. He walked around and opened my door, holding out his hand again.
I stared at it.
Six months ago, I would have taken it without thinking.
Tonight, I made him wait three whole seconds before I did.
The elevator ride was silent. 40 floors. My heart was pounding so loud I was sure he could hear it.
The doors opened to a penthouse that looked like it belonged in a magazine. Floor to ceiling windows. City lights everywhere. Minimalist furniture. Cold. Like him.
"Can I get you anything?" Adrian asked. "Water? Wine?"
"Water," I said.
He went to the kitchen while I stood by the window, hugging myself. His blazer was still around my shoulders.
He came back with two glasses of water and handed me one. Our fingers brushed.
Neither of us mentioned it.
"So," I said, turning to face him. "Explain."
Adrian set his glass down. "The board meeting. The mistake with the client. It was mine. But if I admitted it, the board would have pushed me out. My father would have—" He stopped himself.
"Would have what?"
"Nothing," he said quickly. "The point is, I was scared. And I took it out on you. The easiest target."
"Because I was just the secretary."
"Because you were the best at your job," he corrected. "And I knew you could handle it. I was wrong."
I laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Wow. That's your explanation?"
"No," Adrian said. He stepped closer. "My explanation is that I've thought about you every day for six months. About how smart you are. About how you called me out when everyone else was scared to. About how I miss arguing with you."
The air in the room changed.
"Don't," I whispered.
"Don't what?"
"Don't do this. Don't make me think you care now."
"I do care," he said. "I care a lot."
We were standing too close. I could see the rain still on his collar. I could see the regret in his eyes.
And God help me, I wanted to believe him.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out.
Unknown number: `Don't trust him. He's lying to you.`
My blood went cold.
I looked up at Adrian. He was watching me.
"Who was that?" he asked.
I didn't answer.
Because suddenly, I wasn't sure who to trust anymore.
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