CHAPTER EIGHT: The Drive Home
580 Words
The elevator ride down was quiet.
Too quiet.
Audrey stood beside Damien, arms folded, her back straight, but her pulse uneven.
His presence was intense. He didn’t say a word, but the air around him felt charged, like he was holding back more than just words.
He hadn’t touched her since stepping in between her and Marcus.
Not a hand. Not a glance.
Just… silence.
The elevator doors opened with a soft chime. They walked side by side, but worlds apart. The valet rushed to bring Damien’s black Aston Martin to the front, oblivious to the storm sitting in the atmosphere.
The city lights shimmered above them, casting reflections on the car’s glossy surface as it pulled up. Audrey stepped in first, the leather cool against her skin. Damien followed, wordless.
As they got into the car, Audrey swallowed hard. Her fingers gripped the edge of her purse in her lap. Damien slid into the driver’s seat beside her, one hand on the wheel, the other resting stiffly against his thigh.
Still no words.
The engine purred to life. The drive began.
City lights flashed by, blurring behind tinted windows. But the silence inside the car screamed louder than the streets outside. Cars passed. Horns echoed in the distance. But inside, it felt like time had slowed.
Audrey glanced at him briefly.
His jaw was clenched. His gaze fixed on the road.
But she saw it, the flicker of emotion in his eyes.
Something was eating at him.
Why won’t he say something? Anything?
Her fingers twitched. She wanted to ask if he was okay. She wanted to thank him for standing up for her. She wanted to scream and demand why he always pulled away when she needed him most.
But she said nothing.
And neither did he.
The only sound was the rhythmic whoosh of the tires against the road. Even the radio was off, leaving the tension between them to grow louder by the mile.
By the time they pulled into their driveway, Audrey’s stomach felt like it had twisted itself into knots. The porch light blinked on as the car slowed to a stop.
Damien cut the engine, but didn’t move.
Audrey sat still, waiting.
The silence felt heavier now. As if whatever needed to be said had grown teeth in the dark.
After a moment, he finally turned his head, not fully, just enough to glance her way.
His voice was low. Almost hoarse.
“Did he touch you?”
She blinked, startled. “No… not like that. He just”
“I should’ve gotten there sooner,” Damien muttered, cutting her off.
Audrey looked at him, eyes softening. “You came. That’s what matters.”
He still wouldn’t look at her.
Instead, he gripped the steering wheel tighter and said, “Let’s go inside.”
They entered the house in silence.
She shut the door behind them. He didn’t go upstairs.
He didn’t turn on the lights.
He walked past the living room, heading straight for the bar cabinet in the corner.
Audrey stood by the doorway, watching.
The sound of the crystal decanter uncorking filled the room. He poured a drink, scotch, no ice, and stared at the glass like it held answers he didn’t want to face.
“Damien…”
He looked up, eyes finally meeting hers.
For one breath, one fragile second, something vulnerable passed between them. Something almost broken.
But then… the wall went back up.
And he turned away.
- Writer
