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“Uh-huh.”
His eyes hold mine. “Doing what?”
“Stuff.” Stop talking. Stop talking now.
“What’s your problem?” He sits up slowly.
“Nothing, I just have to go.” I scoop my dress and underwear up from the floor and go back into the bathroom. I’m not fighting with him here in his house. He’ll just somehow talk me onto my back again. It’s obvious I have zero willpower where he’s concerned. He has leg opening superpowers.
I quickly get dressed back into my whore bag dress. This thing is going in the bin. How do people do this on the regular? It’s appalling.
I walk back out into the bedroom to find him zipping up his jeans. “I’ll drive you.”
“No, it’s fine.” I slip on my black high heels.
He glares at me. “Don’t piss me off, Olivia.”
What?
My hackles rise. “Fine. Drive me home, you control freak.”
With another dirty look, he throws on a T-shirt. I follow him out of the bedroom and into the apartment. All the windows are open, and I quickly glance around the beautiful pool and its surroundings. Well, it was nice almost swimming in you.
We get into the lift. He bangs the button hard and stares straight ahead.
Animosity is oozing out of his every pore. God, this is awkward.
I twist my fingers in front of me as I watch the dial. The doors open into the underground parking lot, and he storms out. I follow him over to a black sports car. I see the Ferrari symbol and I inwardly cringe. He drives a Ferrari. Of course, he does. I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried.
He opens the door abruptly for me despite his anger. I climb in and he slams the door hard before he walks around and gets in to start the car with a large rev of the engine.
I glance over at him. Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.
He tears out of the parking lot at full speed and I hang on for dear life. Oh hell, get off the road, we’re all going to die.
“Slow down!” I cry.
He pushes in the code of the security gates, and the door slowly rises up.
He stares straight ahead. I can see his jaw ticking as he clenches his teeth together.
Oh fuck.
The gates rise, and he screeches out onto the road at full speed.
“What is your fucking problem?” he snaps as his furious eyes flick to me.
“Watch the road!” I screech. He changes gears fast, overtaking two cars. I cling onto the dashboard for dear life. “You’re the problem,” I cry as I watch the oncoming traffic zoom by. “You treat me like crap, don’t call me for two whole years, and then turn up in a nightclub. I go home with you like you’re a fucking rock star. I’m disgusted with myself.”
“I told you why I treated you the way I did.” He changes the gears again and I grip my seatbelt.
“Will you slow down?”
He stares at the road.
“Why didn’t you call me all this time? If you wanted to see me, why didn’t you just call me?”
“Because you wouldn’t have come! I told you that. Listen to me when I speak, woman.”
