Page 22 of His Little Stowaway

“You look great,” Pearce finally says, breaking the long silence that has me wondering what he’s really thinking all over again.

“I still feel…” I say but noting his look I remind myself I have to ease up on hating myself so much.

Being down on myself has never helped me so far, so I’m not sure why I keep going back to that when I’m having the best day ever.

“Are you gonna change?” I ask, noting that he still looks perfect himself. Even though his shirt’s a little wrinkled and his pants…

Well. His pants might have a large crease in the front, but apart from that, the man would look good in or out of anything.

“I’m ready whenever you are,” he says with some flare, offering me his arm and escorting me out of the office to the elevator before I realize I’ve forgotten my bag.

“I’ll just grab my bag,” I tell him, making to slip out from his arm but he hesitates.

It’s only for a microsecond, but I feel it. Like I can feel his thoughts too.

Why does she want to go back to the office?

Was it super spy Barbie who was up to no good, or little miss runaway here?

“Don’t be long,” he says, with a small smile. “I’ll hold the elevator,” he winks, making me think it might just be me who’s acting a little paranoid.

I grab my bag and pull the office door closed. I trot back to Pearce who’s waiting in his private elevator.

He pulls me close, kissing me hard as the doors close silently.

“Hungry, or do you wanna do something else first?” he asks.

I shrug, feeling like I’m way out of my depth even suggesting anything.

“I could use a bite to eat, but you don’t have to buy—” I say, groaning in surrender when he holds his hand up, warning me off the topic of saying no or griping about the cost of things, or anything else.

“Just… decide, Brynn,” he says calmly. “Eat first or go shopping?”

“Eat,” I affirm with confidence, my groaning belly agreeing with me and making us both chuckle.

“Great, I’m starving,” Pearce remarks. “I had nothing but an egg white omelet and toast.”

“You must have a pretty strict diet,” I reply, hoping we might have more on offer than an egg white with some toast.

I can’t even remember the last time I ate. I’m so hungry I could probably eat a whole cow.

Once we get to the parking garage, and Pearce notices his limo gone, he sets about finding a car to use while I check my phone.

“Damn,” he mutters to himself, pressing firmly on the intercom again when he has to wait for someone to reply.

“What the hell is wrong with these people today,” he asks himself, looking over at me and growling instructions for which car he’d like brought around.

“…If it isn’t too much trouble,” he grits out before calming himself.

Looking over at me, making himself laugh.

“It’s usually not always like this on a Monday,” he admits, but I wonder.

Maybe it’s like this all the time, and he’s only just seeing a different side of things now that he’s not stuck in his office all day conquering the world of high finance or whatever it is he does up there.

There’s the faint revving of a motor and some light tire squealing before a sleek sports car pulls up in front of us.

I recognize the driver, the same guy who drove the limo this morning.

“Simon,” Pearce says, pissed at him, but the man manages to say what he has to.

“Sorry, sir. I was just cleaning the limo. I only just moved it. Sorry, sir…”

Pearce narrows his eyes and then glancing over at me he shrugs it off.

“Well, okay then,” he says quietly, moving to open my door first. Ignoring his driver once he moves to his side.

Pearce smoothly navigates the car out into city traffic, moving up and in between cars like he’s done nothing but drive in the city his whole life.

“You drive a lot?” I ask, surprised when he says no.

“Not lately. Mostly I’m in the back, buried in some group call or something like that.

“It’s a beautiful car,” I observe, showing my ignorance I guess.

Who calls a car like this ‘beautiful?’

“I like to drive,” he tells me. “When I have a good enough reason to,” he adds, flashing me a winning smile.

Making me forget I’m even in a car or in my body, or anywhere on earth.

One glance or a simple touch from him and I’m miles away.

In orbit, like the way he had me on his desk before.

The memory etched forever, constantly replaying in the background of my mind.

My body counting the seconds until it can experience him like that all over again.

Chapter Twelve

Pearce

I feel better once I know we’re getting away from work, from that building.

But damn, if this isn’t the strangest, best day ever.

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