Martin had sent me a message earlier with just five words. “Get dressed, we’re going out.” No clue about where we were headed, but I slipped into a knee-length white gown, threw on my carton-colored jacket, and strapped on a pair of white sandals. Looking simple and beautiful, I stepped outside and saw him waiting beside the car.
“I’m not the type who waits for people,” he said, his voice cold, but I could feel something in his posture, something I don't understand.
“I’m sorry,” I said, brushing past the foul mood that wore him like a cloak. I didn’t have the patience for his mood swings today.
He opened the door without a word. I slid into the passenger seat, and he rounded the car to get in on the driver’s side.
Wow. No driver, no bodyguard. Just the two of us. I don't know what he
