Page 14 of The Guru: Shadow
The door on her left opened, and he hopped into the car.
“Are you from France?” she asked him straight away, and his eyes wandered from the open console to the bottle in her hand to her eyes. Internally, she groaned at her inability to not blurt out anything.
“Quite the eye,” he chuckled. “My parents were,” came his casual answer while he seated himself, closing the door.
“Were?”
“They passed away when I was a child.”
“Oh.” It was all she could say. Everything else was a lie. A lie about being sorry for something she had no connection to or influence over.
“Let’s get you home then.”
“But…I’d rather–”
“I don’t care what you’d rather. You need a bed and rest from whatever got you all wound up.”
Bossy. Like most men with money, at least on the outside.It was something that bugged her. She held much dislike for men who thought themselves to be superior to others only because they were wealthy.
“What if I don’t tell you where I live?” She had to challenge him now.
“I already know where you live, we are driving there now.”
So he is a stalker.
“How did you find that out?” she asked him incredulously, putting the whiskey bottle back where it belonged.
In her mind, it crept up on her that he might be one of those guys she only knew from books or movies who always got their way, stalking the shit out of a woman and eating her like prey.
“I called Julie, I also told her I’d get you home safe.”
Okay, no stalker. God, I read too many creepy books.
“You know Julie?” she asked him with a drawn-up eyebrow.
“I’m a client of hers. Her best, she tells me.”
“Oh.”
Why do I always expect the worst in people?
He continued to stare at her, so intense it felt as if she lay with an open chest on an operating table, and he was the surgeon staring into her, trying to figuring out how to get the tumor out.
On the whole, it made her so uncomfortable she had to rub her hands over her thighs, and as that didn’t help, she broke the gaze and let it trail out of the window instead. Although she could still feel his eyes on her, her attention went to the streets of Manhattan. Rolling down the city that never sleeps by night in an armored G-Class probably was the most special thing she had ever done.
Armored G-Class.She reminded herself.Mafia vibes all over it. Maybe that is the reason I expect the worst of him.
“You looked quite extraordinarily out of place tonight.”
“Yeah, thanks for pointing out my incompetence in dressing properly,” she snapped at him without looking.
It made him chuckle. A chuckle, so deep, with an almost unrecognizable rasping sound in it, and to her disgust it made her stomach flutter.
Gods, get a grip on yourself. He’s just a guy.
“I found it refreshing.”
“Bite me.” Her wearing no fancy brands, all black, while the room was full of the entire color palette was sure not refreshing for a guy like him who could have anyone. He surely wouldn’t go for the black, incompetent funeral lady with the panic attacks.