Dorian had been driving at a relentless speed, the needle hovering close to one hundred miles an hour for most of the journey.
“So, you’re not going to tell me where we’re going?” Clara asked, narrowing her eyes.
“Patience,” he replied, glancing at her with a quick smile.
“Eyes on the road, please,” she protested. “Unless you want us both in a wreck.”
“Don’t worry, sunshine. I’m a very experienced driver.”
“Even experienced drivers crash. You’re not the only one out here—other people’s reactions can’t be predicted.”
“You’re right,” he said easily, still watching her instead of the asphalt ahead. “But there’s no one else out here.”
“For now. You’re still going too fast.”
“I like speed, Clara. Sometimes it’s the only thing that makes me feel free.” His foot pressed the accelerator ha
