Page 6 of His Little Stowaway

His tailored suit is so crisp, defining his chest and shoulders as well as his perfectly rounded biceps as he checks his watch impatiently.

I feel myself tense up, nervous but with a thrill inside I know the driver isn’t sharing right now.

The limo eases to halt, the driver’s window coming down and I can see him as he leans in slightly.

Something in me is terrified. Scared I’m in more trouble than I know how to handle.

Another part of me?

The part I thought had to use the bathroom?

Well. That’s just fine now.

A very different pressure is building in my core now. A pressure I feel might come loose altogether when he opens the door to let himself in after a few short words with the driver.

He hesitates, but only for a second before his tight lips loosen into a wry smile once he lays eyes on me.

Settling himself down in the limo with the confidence of a man who could and probably will fire someone for being a few minutes late, he only cocks his brow in my direction.

Giving me enough rope to hang myself as his dark eyes begin to scan me once I start babbling.

I can hear myself pleading with him not to call the cops. It sounds like there’s a third person back here that’s not me.

The ‘me’ inside my mind is begging him to do something different once I see him lift off his seat to adjust the front of his pants as if he wants me to see what he’s packing.

Is that?

It is.

Oh dear god in heaven.

Panic sets in once he locks the doors, his huge hand covering the switch to let me know just how hopeless the situation is for me.

My initial thrill, even that little bit of fear is fast replaced with something new.

Annoyance.

His smug look, coupled with the announcement that I belong to him now, just because I’m in his car wearing his coat is enough for me.

Too much.

I ask him again, then tell him point-blank to just let me out but he’s only interested in one thing it seems. Me.

It’s clear he’s not gonna hurt me, but also clear he’s not letting me go anywhere anytime soon until I tell him exactly how and why I ended up in his car and wearing his coat of all things.

Even though he’s got a smarmy grin.

Even though he’s teasing me with his pretending I’m his all of a sudden, and even though I know he could make all this go a very different way I’d like even less.

He still has the deepest, darkest, and most intense eyes I’ve ever seen.

It’s like he can see through me, right into my soul.

I’m determined to keep my guard up, and my wits about me.

But there’s something in his look that’s so disarming as well, especially when he asks me again to tell him everything.

I feel my tears starting to rise up inside my throat, my lips tremble and I hear my voice cracking as I feel my fingers digging into the thick wool coat, hugging myself with it.

“I don’t think how I got here is any of your business,” I manage to growl through gritted teeth, sniffing and feeling a single tear betray my true feelings.

My eyes aren’t helping either.

Darting from his to his hands, but mostly gravitating back to the guy’s crotch about a hundred times in the few minutes since he’s gotten in his car.

His look softens. Shifting from teasing me and poking fun to being concerned.

Like, genuinely concerned.

For me. Someone, he’s only just met.

“Did anyone hurt you?” he asks, suddenly, firmly.

I sniff again and shake my head, not daring to speak now because I know if I do I’ll end up crying like a little girl when I’m trying to act like Joan of Arc.

Pearce’s face grows serious, and he leans forward. Ruining my view of his pant bulge, but he seems preoccupied with other things all of a sudden.

Like who I am and what’s really happened to me.

For the first time in my whole life, someone. A complete stranger actually seems to give a fuck about me.

And I have to say, I’m really not sure how to take it.

“Do you believe in fate, Brynn? Like destiny?” he asks gravely.

The best I can do is shrug, sniffing some more before he produces a handkerchief from his jacket pocket that smells like the fresh version of his coat I’m wrapped in.

Breathing in deeply, I feel like I could tell him anything.

Like I’d agree to anything he said too.

Before long I’ve managed to get out the basics. That my mom announced her engagement to the father of the boy who bullied me in school for years, and that I ran away.

That I couldn’t stand the thought of living the way my mom had planned for us both, let alone the way I’d been living up until then.

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