“What are you doing out here?” I asked after I fumbled the buckle into place.
The car took off down the road. Brock drove like I expected him to.
Fast, without much regard for the speed limit.
“I was on my way to a party,” he replied, his fingers wrapping around the leather steering wheel. “Your turn.”
That explained why he looked and smelled divine, but then again, he pretty much always did. I glanced out the window, watching the night whiz by. “My mom’s throwing some fucking party so she can wheedle her way into the rich women’s club or some stupid shit.”
His eyes turned from the road just long enough to give me a pitying look that I most definitely didn’t want. “The bottle makes sense now.”
“Like mother, like daughter,” I mumbled. As soon as the words were out, I realized how close to the truth the statement was. The last thing I wanted to be was a miserable drunk like my mother, and yet… the first thing I’d done tonight was steal a bottle.
The liquid in my stomach churned, and I dropped my head to the back of the seat.
He slowed the car just enough to make a right turn. “Despite what others might think, I don’t think you’re like your mom.”
I turned my head to the side, studying his profile. “You don’t?” I said with surprise.
His thumb tapped on the wheel. “No.”
Sighing, I forced my eyes off him. “You don’t know me.”
“I’m a damn good judge of people. Now, your mom, she is a money leech, but not you.” An edge came into his voice. “This world, the money, the power, it doesn’t faze you. It’s not something you want.”
He was right. I didn’t want this world. His perceptiveness made me feel exposed. Fuck it. Plan or no plan, I needed to know the answer to the question that had plagued my mind since I found out who he was. “Why did you do it?”
A single brow rose. “Do what?”
Butterflies fluttered into my stomach, joining the warm bourbon sloshing around in there. I shifted my body in the seat, angling myself toward him. “Sleep with me?”
He looked over and held my gaze. “Are you really asking me that?”
“Only because I’m drunk.” Tomorrow, if I remembered this conversation, I would be mortified, but tonight I was full of liquid courage and curiosity.
Brock chuckled, eyes back on the road.
I had a feeling I wasn’t going to get a straight answer from him. “I’m told you have standby girls. Just so we’re clear. I’m not a standby girl.”
He frowned, a muscle in his jaw feathering. “Who have you been talking to?”
I snorted, not in the least bit intimidated by his serious face. “No one. No one talks to me.”
“Not true. I’m talking to you.”
I rolled my eyes. “Because you almost hit me.” And presented me with the perfect opportunity to start working on the big plan Mads devised. Too bad I wasn’t fucking sober.
His chest rumbled in a deep sound. “That isn’t exactly my fault.”
My fingers looped over the opening on the liquor bottle. “Blame the bourbon. You can’t dodge all my questions.”
His foot hit the brakes as he slowed the car down to a stop at a red light. “I didn’t realize this was an interrogation. If I had, I would have left you on the side of the road.” His tone hardened as if he was trying to prove a point.
But I wasn’t buying it. Blame it on the alcohol, but there was something about this guy. He didn’t give off the same vibes Carter did. There were assholes. And then there wereassholes. I couldn’t put my stepbrother in the same category as Brock, but there was plenty I didn’t know about him. “I don’t believe you,” I said. “And I’m starting to believe your reputation as a bad guy is utter bullshit.”
“I promise you it is very real. I don’t have many redeeming qualities. Don’t look for something that isn’t there, Firefly. I promise you, you’ll be disappointed.”
I gave him a wry glance. “You know that I never expected to see you again. Whether you believe me or not, I didn’t know who you were.”