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The young guy pulls away from the curb cautiously, eyeing Vincent. “Your Uber driver rolls around in a G-class?”
“GlorifiedUber driver.”
We drive past Vincent, and he fits his hands to his hips.
“Wait. Was that a gun? Was that guy carrying? What the hell?Who are you?”
“No one.”
He readjusts his rearview mirror. “No one? The angry Uber driver is following us. Is he gonna kill me?” He balks. “Seriously, lady, I amnotgiving you five stars.”
I smile. “He’s harmless.I think,” I add as an afterthought.
“She thinks,” he mutters. “Great.”
“Relax, he’s just making sure you don’t kidnap me. Definitely don’t do that,” I tell him seriously. “He’ll definitely kill you then. He’s a little possessive.”
“If I could pull over right now, I would. I’ve also considered just kicking you out of my car, but something tells me that would piss the crazy dude behind me off just as much.”
“Probably more,” I agree.
Marco checks the rearview mirror over and over as we drive. He shifts in his seat every time his eyes meet Vincent’s, and I turn away to hide my smile.
The car drops me at the front of our building, and I watch Vincent’s car speed past us, avoiding our dip into the parking lot completely.
“Thanks, Marco,” I say absently, watching the Mercedes disappear from sight.
“Whatever, lady. We won’t cross paths again. I’ll one star you to make sure of that.”
“You’re so kind.” I smile sarcastically, slamming the door.
I feel a little triumphant as I walk into our apartment. A pride seeps into my bones that makes me feel more powerful than it likely should. I drop my clutch onto the entryway table, smelling the beautiful arrangement of flowers Heather had collected this morning as per my request. The exuberant array of red roses makes me smile, and I run my fingers over the petals tenderly.
I move gingerly to the kitchen, plucking a bowl of freshly washed strawberries from my fridge. The sweet taste bursts over my tongue when I bite into one, and I close my eyes, savoring the flavor. The juice runs along my chin, and I wipe it away.
Vincent returns as I finish my last strawberry, a second set of footsteps echoing his. I tip my head from the kitchen, standing upright when I see Andre trailing my husband.
“Vincent?” I question.
“You will never, under any fucking circumstance, get into a vehicle with someone I do not know,” he yells. “Am I understood?” A vein on his forehead pulses heavily enough that I think it’s about to explode.
I’m shocked into silence.
“I can’t keep you safe if you go against every fucking safety measure I put in place.”
“Vinnie,” I murmur, guilt leaking in at his outburst.
“We have enemies, Bianca. You know that. You have a fucking driver for a reason.”
“He doesn’t tail us for moments you piss me off and threaten to kick me out of your car,” I argue.
“You wanted Andre? You’ve got him. If I am not driving you, he is, am I understood?”
I consider it for a moment, glancing at Andre, who drops his face in discomfort.
I nod once.
“You can go,” he speaks to Andre, refusing to pull his eyes away from me.
