He glowers at David’s Lamborghini like the car castrated him. But whatever. I put my address into the GPS for my boss.
As David pulls out of the hotel lot, I sag in my seat. Then I wonder if I should say something. Once David and I met up after my bathroom visit, the evening was going pretty well. But then Warren showed up again at the auction. And since he did that that because of our history, I probably owe David some sort of explanation. And an apology.
“I’m sorry about Warren,” I say. “He’s usually better than this.” He has to be in order to be a politician like his daddy. “He’s probably just under a lot of pressure. His father’s in the middle of a huge scandal.” I list the problems he’s likely facing, not wanting any hard feelings between the two men because of me. David’s family is in Virginia, and they undoubtedly circulate in the same social strata as Warren. Dad’s said many times that the wealthy hang out with the powerful—that’s how they do business.
David gives me a sidelong glance. “You don’t have to make excuses for him. He’s a big boy. He can apologize himself when he does something stupid.”
“Right. But… You know—”
“It isn’t your job,” he says mildly.
I shut up, suddenly realizing that I might sound like I’m trying to side with Warren, and we enter into a silence. David turns the radio on, and a new song from Axelrod, “Nowhere,” comes on, helping to fill the void. The streets are also unusually empty, which is a small blessing. It allows us a faster ride back, and I’m hyperaware of David—his mood and presence. It isn’t like anything I’ve ever felt with him before.
It’s probably the setting. I’ve never spent time with him when we were dressed up like this. We’ve spent weekends together, but only during crunch time, and we were in work clothes. There were laptops and PowerPoint presentations between us.
But whew. He’s impossible to ignore. His presence prickles my nerve endings. I feel like one of those plasma spheres, and he’s the hand making the currents gather and spark. Hopefully I’m not that transparent.
I begin to get goosebumps, and feel too hot despite the cool air from the vents blowing directly on my face. Shifting, I play with an earring—the really expensive one from Sophia—to distract myself. But the rich food I nibbled on earlier isn’t sitting well. Maybe I should’ve waited until I got home and just had some cereal instead.
David pulls into a guest spot in front of my apartment complex. I gesture at the building. “This is my place.” I get out of the car, needing to get some fresh air.
But David kills the engine and climbs out too.
“Um. Don’t you have to…go home?” Is he expecting coffee? Am I still playing the love of his life? I need a script and detailed description of this mythical woman. I thought him dropping me off was like the clock striking midnight, when I go back to just being an assistant.
“I’ll walk you to your unit,” he says.
“You don’t have to. It’s only the second floor.” I gesture at some random floor behind me. “Nothing’s going to happen.”
He gives me a look. “Don’t you watch crime shows? Just when yo
u think you’re safe is when you’re the most vulnerable…when the serial killer pounces on his unsuspecting victim.”
I laugh a little at his dramatic tone. I watch those shows to unwind when I’m stressed, and David’s right about that. But… “It’s really safe around here. I checked before I signed the lease.”
“It’s called being a gentleman.” A corner of his mouth quirks into a smile.
I smile back. “Okay, then. Thank you.”
We walk to my unit together. It takes less than five minutes, since we don’t need to take the elevator. It’s faster not to.
I turn around to face him, the door behind me. “This is me.”
“Don’t spend all weekend finishing that training program,” he says, his eyes intense on mine.
I shake my head. “I won’t.” I have other videos I need to go over.
“And don’t answer any more calls or texts or emails from my mother. Or me. Otherwise, I’m going to be very disappointed.”
“Um. Okay.”
David looks at me, his expression unreadable under the light. But I can still feel his gaze roaming over my face as though he’s trying to figure something out.
Or maybe I have cream on my lips. I might’ve smeared something while he was busy winning the auction.
Feeling silly and nervous, I flick my tongue over one corner of my mouth, then the other. I swear I can feel a tiny crumb of crackers there. I run my tongue over my inner lips. That should do it.
David exhales softly. Something hot and shaky dances on the edge of my nerves. I stay absolutely still and stare up at him, wondering what’s coming next.