"Our cook probably made enough to feed an army. I can have her send you some," I offer. If I weren't afraid of him rejecting, I'd invite him home for dinner.
“Feed an army? Why? How many people are in the house?”
“Driver, two security guards, three maids, one cook, me and now you.”
He turns to look at me with a frown. "Your parents?"
I shrug. “They’re never home.”
“So you have your dinner with the helpers?”
“No. My parents forbid it. If I get close to any of our employees, they fire them.”
He lets out a surprised noise deep in his chest. “That’s ridiculous.”
"Tell me about it. They fired my nanny because I was too attached. She was my nanny, of course, I'd be attached." I snort. It's like they're punishing me, imprisoning me in this lonely life without an alibi. With a forced laugh, I add, "In short, you can call the house for whatever you need. They'll bring it to you."
“So, am I not allowed to have dinner with you?” he asks.
I jerk my head to look at him. He smirks at me, probably at the surprise in my face.
“You can. If you want to. But you don’t have to, Mr. Richards,” I murmur.
He cringes. “Mr. Richards is at school, okay? I’m not fifty. It’s Elijah.”
I giggle before I can stop myself.
"And I hate eating alone," he says with a grumpy voice. "So… can I eat with you?" he asks, but I get the feeling that he isn't used to asking for permission.
I want to shriek with joy and say yes, because I hate eating alone, too, but after his reaction at school, I don't know what's the sudden change at heart.
“Are you doing it because you pity me?” I whisper.
“What?”
“You know because of my writing…” I trail off.
He sighs. “Look, I know I acted like a jerk and well, I usually am.”
I smile at him.
"You don't have to explain. I just want to say, you shouldn't worry about that. I just like writing, and I mumble things. I don't want you to feel responsible now that you're kind of living with me or we met earlier. It's just me being a drama queen, you should ignore it. Okay?"
"Evangeline…" he says softly, and I've never liked my name better. The way his tongue caresses my name is like poetry to my ears. I look up at him, feeling the courage to meet his eyes. "I'm not pitying you," he finishes.
I feel like there's more to come, but after he looks at me a second too long, he turns his attention back to the road. My cheeks feel hot. I've never felt how he makes me feel with just one look. I don't understand how he does that, but I've never felt like I have someone's complete focus. I was hoping the intensity I felt last night was just a fantasy, but today it's even stronger. The intensity of his gaze makes me dizzy every time he looks me dead in the eye.
"Turn right from here," I say, breaking the silence in the car. My voice is huskier even to my ears. I try to give him the direction while being nonchalant, but my voice is giving me away, getting shakier.
When we reach my house, the security guard opens the gate after noticing me, and we drive inside. My driver, Jake follows behind us and opens my door.
I clear my throat. “Mr. Richards will stay with us,” I announce to the security guard and Jake.
“We’re informed by your pare
nts, Miss Faye,” Jake says.
Elijah snorts. “Seems like everyone knows but you, Evangeline.”