AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"We haven't even discussed the deal!" He looks annoyed, and I shrug.
"Let's have a meeting in a couple of weeks."
"But—" My cold, hard glare stops him from continuing with what he was about to say, and he sighs and says, "Fine." I leave it at that and walk toward the door, texting my driver to be ready ASAP. The black Cadillac Escalade pulls up as I step onto the sidewalk, and I open the door and slide into the back seat before my driver can get out and do it first, as he’s paid to do.
"You can take me home," I say to my driver.
"Yes, Mr. Pruitt." He nods and apologizes for not getting my door for me in time. I wave him off, my mind on Zara. I can’t stop thinking about her and how badly I want her again. I am still in shock that we almost fucked on the couch like that.
I look at my phone and try to concentrate on the meetings that I have tomorrow, but I can't seem to stop thinking about Zara, her kids, how that man had his hands on her, and the way she tried to argue back with him.
"What the fuck were you thinking?" I mumble to myself. As I shake my head at my stupidity, I glance a woman through the tinted windows of the Escalade walking with two little kids.
What the fuck?
"Pull over," I order the driver, and he pulls over immediately. I jump out of the car and walk toward Zara and the kids.
She looks at me with an irritated expression. "Ugh, not you again."
"What are you doing?" I ask her, angry. "Are your kids okay?" I look at their tired faces.
"They're fine. He just ate too much chocolate," she says, rolling her eyes. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have left them with the entire bag."
"Yeah, you shouldn't have done many of the stupid things you’ve been doing."
"I know that," she says, "but I was going to say I shouldn't have given them an entire bag of chocolate bars. I should have known they wouldn't eat just one."
"Sorry," Luke says, looking up at her.
"Do you want a ride?"
"No," she says. "We're going to catch the subway. Thank you, though."
"It's late. It's dangerous. You and your kids will be better off getting into the back of the car with me and?—"
"It's fine. We take the subway all the time. Thank you very much."
I fold my arms and stand in her way. "I'm not going to take no for an answer. You're getting into the back of the car, whether or not you like it."
"What are you going to do? Pick us all up?" She doesn’t know me well because I may do that if she continues to carry on like this. Her kids are watching this interaction between us with curious expressions on their faces.
"Do you really want to take them on the subway this late?” I soften my voice. “What if the boy gets sick again and has to vomit? What are you going to do on the subway? At least in the car, we can pull over for him. It's not like I'm a stranger, Zara. We do know each other." I smile at her and wink. "Quite well, in fact."
"Fine. Only because it's late and only because they need to get to bed."
"Good. You're not as bad a mother as I thought." I open the door and watch as Charlotte and Luke climb into the back seat. Zara gets in next to them, and I make my way to the front. I look over my shoulder as she buckles their seat belts. "I'm sorry, I don't have any kiddie seats or whatever kids sit in," I say gruffly.
She shrugs. "It's fine. We'll be okay. We don't live too far from here."
"Good," I say.
"Aunty Zara, can we get a milkshake?" the little boy asks. What? My eyes meet hers in the rearview mirror, and she stares at me defiantly. She's not their mother. For some reason, the thought annoys and pleases me. I don't know why. If she's not their mother, why is she always with them? Where is their mother? I wonder if her sister has recently died or her brother and she's recently taken possession of the kids. I feel guilty for a few moments. That would make me a real jackass.
"Are you their adopted mother?" I ask, and she shakes her head.
"No. My sister is their mom. She's just," she pauses, "away on a business trip right now." She looks out the window, and I can tell she's lying. Where is their mother? I want to ask, but I know she won’t tell me anything in front of them.
"You need to give my driver your address; I don't know where you live," I lie.
