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“One hundred percent safe,” he vows, placing his hand over his heart. “I’d never hurt you, Katy. Not ever.”
Well then. Hard to argue when a man makes a declaration like that to you. Though, if memory serves, Zane fed me a similar line once or twice. Not to mention Bennett’s my boss, and though nothing has happened between us, I already feel like we’re crossing lines.
All of which means I should say no, but I think we know I won’t.
“Then I guess I’ll meet you out front in five minutes. But if you don’t want questions, I’ll get my own food to-go. You can do yours. And if my body ends up in the Charles River, you should know, you’ll never see the inside of a jail cell because my grandparents, uncles, aunts, best friends, and all eight thousand of my cousins will kill you and no one will ever find your body.”
A soft smile tilts up the side of his face. “Understood.”
“Then go. Time is blood sugar.”
His hand slides up my arm and then he’s gone, leaving me here with far too many questions and a lot more nervous flutters than I want.
What am I doing?
This is crazy.
And yet I’m flying through the restaurant, heading to the kitchen to ask Stella to put mine in a to-go box, kissing Rory goodbye, and since I can’t lie for shit and I refuse to do that with them, I tell my family that I have to leave and that they can’t ask why but I’m totally fine. They make me promise to explain everything later, and I tell them I will if I can.
I get looks. A lot of looks. And they all share a bunch between themselves too. But despite their protests and pushes for answers, I’m out the door in under five minutes with a to-go bag dangling from my wrist.
“You good?” Bennett questions, standing beside a Mercedes G Wagon.
I narrow my gaze as I get in his top-of-the-line ridiculous ride. “Not really, but I’m here, so let’s do it.”
He’s still a block of ice and doesn’t say anything as he drives us up a few blocks. He doesn’t even have music playing, and I can’t handle the tense silence, so I start to hum to myself.
“You can sing. I like it when you do that.”
I raise an eyebrow in his direction. “When do you hear me sing?”
He laughs lightly. “All the time, Katy. You sing all the time. All kinds of things.”
“It helps me focus, but right now, I’m only doing it because you’re so quiet.”
He sighs and deflates a bit. “I know. I’m sorry.” That’s all he offers me until he pulls into a driveway, straight back into a garage that is connected to a beautiful house on a quiet side street. He comes around and helps me down, taking the bag of food from my wrist.
“You live here?”
“I live here,” he confirms.
“And the house?”
“Is all mine.”
I look around as we walk from the garage to the house. The backyard is big, which is saying a lot for this part of the city. Considering the G Wagon he drove us here in runs about two hundred grand and private houses with this sort of land at least ten million, I’d say Bennett has money. A lot of money.
I stop talking after that, and he leads me inside through a back patio door that heads straight into a gorgeous freaking kitchen with dark blue cabinets, white and gray marble counters, brass hardware, and the coolest appliances I’ve ever seen.
“Have a seat. Would you like a glass of wine?”
“Absolutely,” I tell him, not even bothering to pretend I’m cool or composed because I’m anything but. Only something occurs to me as I watch him take out glasses and silverware for us. “Is this a date?”
He pauses, his back to me, until he turns and meets my steady gaze. “No.”
“Why am I here, Bennett?”
“You need to eat. I’ll explain as you do.”
