My Hot Taxidriver Is a Tycoon In Disguise

3. Hot Taxidriver

~RICHARD’S POV~

[Some hours later]

“Thompson,” I said, phone pressed to my ear as I turned into the courthouse compound.

“Give me the full rundown.”

“Grace Lowry, ” he answered, crisp and straight to the point, like always.

“Twenty-five years, husband, Zach Sanchez. He’s the one who had her sign divorce papers under duress and stole her company, D Double Jewelry. Her late mother founded the company and left it to Grace. She’s the legal heir.”

I swerved gently into a parking spot near the east side of the courthouse. The sun was beginning to dip behind the palm trees, casting the building in gold.

“And the judge?”

“Emergency hearing granted. Judge Alvarez pushed another case to squeeze her in. We filed an emergency motion for a temporary injunction and served Sanchez in the courtroom. The court froze all company transactions, blocked her removal from the board, and flagged all company assets as disputed until the civil suit is resolved.”

“Good.”

“The divorce stands, though. She didn’t contest it.”

“She didn’t fight the divorce?”

“No,” he said. “The only thing she wanted back was her mother’s legacy and her personal assets. No interest in fighting for the man.”

A smile tugged at my lips. Smart woman.

I let out a slow breath. “You really are a magician, Thompson.” I rubbed my temple. “Can’t believe you pulled that off in just a few hours.”

“You hired me for a reason.”

“Do you want me to stay with her?” Thompson asked.

“No,” I said firmly.

“Send me the case summary,” I added. “And go home. You’ve done enough for today.”

“Copy that,” he said, then hung up.

I turned off the ignition, pushed open the cab door, and stepped out just as a tall woman with messy blonde hair exited the courthouse.

Grace.

She looked exhausted. Not just tired—emotionally drained. Still in that same wrinkled blouse, the lines under her eyes deeper now. But her spine was straight. She walked like a woman who’d been knocked down and stood right back up.

A man and woman approached from the opposite end of the compound. He wore a fitted navy suit, but the smirk on his face couldn’t hide the tension in his jaw.

The woman at his side? Slim, sharp-heeled, with a face that screamed devil.

As they passed Grace, the woman smirked and muttered something under her breath as her shoulder brushed against Grace’s.

The man chuckled.

Grace didn’t flinch, but her eyes dropped.

I narrowed mine and quickly approached her.

“Who the hell are they?” I asked quietly, stepping beside her.

She didn’t look at me right away. Just kept staring after them like she was watching a slow-moving car crash.

“That’s the jerk,” she said, her voice low. “Zach Sanchez. My ex-husband. And his pet snake of an ex-wife, Flora.”

My jaw tightened. “Classy couple.”

“Disgusting,” she muttered.

“I couldn’t agree more.”

She turned to me now, her features softening. “I can’t believe you did this for me,” she said.

“You… don’t even know me, yet you helped me. I didn’t even think I’d be in court today. Everything happened so fast—it felt like magic.”

“I didn’t do anything,” I said with a smile.

“All thanks to Thompson. You know R.M— they’re known for making the impossible happen in hours.”

“Oh my God…” she breathed, shaking her head like she still couldn’t believe it. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You don’t have to.”

The courthouse doors closed behind us as the breeze picked up. The sky was darkening, soft purples and oranges bleeding across the horizon.

“It’s getting late,” I said. “Do you want me to drive you home?”

She hesitated.

“I don’t have a home,” she said quietly. “Not anymore.”

I nodded, already stepping toward the car.

“Then let’s get you to a hotel, until you figure things out.”

She nodded, smiling through teary eyes. “Thank you. You’re like an angel sent from heaven.”

My heart fluttered wildly and I smiled back at her, holding the door as she slipped in.

I closed the door and slipped into the driver’s seat, then ignited the car.

She didn’t speak for the first five minutes. Just stared out the window.

Then, out of nowhere, she said, “I used to think MoorDrive was the worst rideshare app on the market.”

I blinked, glancing at her through the rearview mirror.

“Seriously,” she went on. “I heard many of my workers at the company complaining about them. Said they were sketchy, unprofessional, and that their drivers acted like they were on parole.”

I swallowed a smile.

“But today…” she sighed. “Today’s been hell. And that driver from earlier—you—felt safer than my own husband. Which is crazy. I just wonder… maybe the problem isn’t the service. Maybe it’s the system. Maybe the drivers don’t feel like they matter.”

I glanced at her again.

“Maybe if the company made them feel like part of something real,” she continued, “like they weren’t disposable, maybe they’d start acting like professionals. Like… give bonuses. Show customer reviews. Let drivers rate passengers too. Give them some power. Some pride.”

My foot nearly came off the gas.

She didn’t know it, but she had just handed me the exact thing the company needed. The solution I’d been searching for all day.

She looked at me and laughed awkwardly. “Sorry. I tend to talk too much when I’m exhausted and heartbroken.”

“No,” I said quietly, still shocked. “That was… smart. Really smart.”

She shrugged and turned back to the window.

But I was still staring at her in the rearview mirror, completely in awe. She wasn’t just beautiful—she was intelligent. How could any man in his right mind discard a gem like her?

I turned back to the road. The hotel rose ahead of us, quiet and dimly lit. I pulled into the lot and parked.

Neither of us spoke as I walked her to the reception desk. She booked a room with the kind of tired silence only heartbreak could carve. The clerk slid a keycard across the counter and pointed toward the elevator.

She turned to me.

“Thanks for today… again.”

“You’re welcome.”

She hesitated. Her eyes lingered on me a little longer this time.

“I never got your name,” she said softly.

I opened my mouth to answer, but she beat me to it.

“Alex?” she guessed, her gaze dropping to the name tag pinned to my uniform.

Thank God Henry made me wear that damn thing. Would’ve blown everything.

She held my eyes a moment longer before turning toward the elevator, the keycard tight in her hand like it was the only thing keeping her upright.

“Are you sure you’ll be fine?” I asked, the words slipping from my mouth just before she stepped in.

She froze.

Turned slowly, halfway back, her voice barely a breath.

“No. Not really.”

Before I could blink, she grabbed my collar and pulled me into the elevator with her. The doors slid shut behind us.

Then she pushed me back against the wall, her breath warm against my cheek, her body flush with mine.

“Not until I compensate this hot taxi driver,” she whispered, her breath hot against my lips as she captured them in a breathtaking kiss I didn’t realize I’d been longing for.

Somehow, we ended up in the hotel room.

The door had barely clicked shut before she was on me again, her mouth hot and desperate against mine, her fingers digging into my shoulders as if she was afraid I might vanish.

I kissed her back, slowly at first, then deeper.

My hands slid into her hair, tilting her head so I could kiss her harder.

She gasped when I pulled away, her swollen lips and chest rising and falling with each breath.

I pressed her back against the floor-to-ceiling window, the city lights glowing behind her like a halo.

She arched into me with a shaky breath, her eyes locked on mine, burning with something wild.

My thumb traced the line of her jaw.

“You don’t have to do this,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended.

She shook her head, her fingers curling into my shirt.

“I want to.”

I stared at her.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she whispered, her palm pressing flat over my chest, right above my pounding heart.

“More than sure.”

I exhaled, already losing control.

“I didn’t help you because I wanted anything in return, Grace.”

“I know, that’s why I want you even more,” she said, her thumb brushing my lower lip, sending a shiver down my spine.

My heart hammered against my ribs.

“I’ve been loyal to that bastard for five years,” she continued, her voice trembling with something more than just lust.

“And I got nothing but betrayal. Now I want to feel what it’s like to be touched by someone who actually sees me.”

She was chaos and softness, fire and pain, all at once.

And for the first time in years, I didn’t feel like Chloe’s ghost was standing between me and someone else.

For the first time, I didn’t feel guilt.

I felt alive.

But still, I tried to stop her. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I’m not doing this to pay you back,” she said, gripping my collar, pulling me closer. “I just want to feel something different. I want you. Just tonight. Please.”

And God help me, I wanted her too.

Her hands slid under my shirt, nails scraping lightly over my n****e, and I groaned.

“God, you’re—”

“Touch me,” she whispered.

And that was it.

I pressed my mouth to hers, swallowing her moan as my hands slid to the hem of her dress, pulling it over her head.

The fabric slipped to the floor, and she stood before me, bare skin glowing in the light, hair a wild mess, breath unsteady.

My eyes roamed over her slowly—full, heavy breasts, a tiny waist, curves that made my body tense with need.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and whispered, “God, you’re beautiful.”