Page 39 of Stalker

A ping on my phone sounded, and I frantically pulled it from my purse to silence it as Mr. Bryce took his seat gracefully. For such a tall man, he fit into the seat with ease.

I shielded my phone from his view as I skimmed the message from Dane.

Is your pussy dripping for your boss like it does for me?

“Everything okay?” Mr. Bryce asked, and I nearly choked on my tongue as I held down the power button on my phone, turning it off completely before shoving it deep into the bottom of my small purse.

“Mmh-hmm.” I hummed, nodding my head rapidly.

“Good.” He hit a button on the dash and the overhead door to the garage opened silently as he hit another button and the car turned on. It was almost soundless, aside from a slight vibration from the engine. “Because I’d hate for someone to be distracting you when you’re mine.”

I looked over at him and found his dark stare zeroed in on me and a blush crawled up my chest. There was something about the way he said‘mine’that made my skin buzz with familiarity. “I’m all yours.” In a nearly hushed tone, I replied, fully cognizant of the dual significance of the words. “I’m focused.”

“Good.” He looked away, shifting the car into gear with his big hand on the gearshift between us, and the car peeled out, roaring through the opening and out onto the blacktop.

I squealed like a ninny and grabbed onto the door for leverage as he raced down the winding driveway and then straight out onto the road without even braking to look for oncoming traffic. “Oh god.” I gasped and then bit my lip when he looked over from the cornerof his eye.

“I didn’t take you for a scaredy-cat.” He shifted gears and raced down the road at breakneck speeds.

“What gave you any impression at all?” I asked and then regretted it when I realized what impressions he got from me to start with.

He snorted lightly and shrugged. “Hot tub masturbator and closet stripper were some big tells.”

I groaned, wishing I’d fought harder to drive my car to the city. It was an hour away and I could not stomach sitting next to him that long if he insisted on bringing it up. “Can we just move on past that? I assure you, both incidents were very isolated cases of misunderstanding that won’t happen again.”

He glanced at me briefly, shifting gears again as he merged onto the highway. “Shame.”

What the fuck?

I opened my mouth to say exactly that, when his phone rang through the speakers and he accepted it.

“You’re on speakerphone and I’m not alone.” He said in place of greeting and I gritted my teeth at the very inconvenient interruption to what was probably going to be the bravest conversation of my entire adult life.

The contact name just had the letter Q on the screen and the voice that came through was a man’s. I could tell he was hesitant to speak at all, after Mr. Bryce’s greeting but they found a rhythm of conversation where they gave me almost zero clues to what they were actually talking about, but managed to discuss quite a lot in the time it took to reach the city limits.

When he ended the call, he glanced back at me, yet I continued to look out the window as if I wasn’t trapped in a small space with someone who disregarded my presence entirely.

“Do you know your way around a stick?” He asked, and I forgot my plan of ignoring him and whipped around to look at him in shock. “Standard car and all.” He gripped the gearshift, changing from fourth to third as we slowed down.

“Why?” I shook my head in confusion and embarrassment.

“I need you to run errands while I’m at this meeting. I already told you that. So I need to know if you can drive this car, or if I need to arrange for one to pick you up.”

“Why didn’t you say that before we left?” I scowled, “I’m not driving this car. I’ll get an Uber or something.”

“So you’re an average American that can’t drive a stick shift.” He surmised, “Got it.”

“I didn’t say I can’t drive a standard car. I said there’s no way I’m driving a car worth a hundred thousand dollars.”

“Five.” He added nonchalantly.

“What?” I snapped, irritated and frustrated with myself.

“The car is worth five hundred thousand dollars, base price. With all the modifications and upgrades, this one was nearly seven hundred thousand dollars.” He said, as if he was talking about the cost of a loaf of bread. “So if you can drive it, prove it.”

He lifted his hand off the gearshift and sped up on the open street. I could tell by the whine of the car that it desperately wanted the next gear and that he was toasting the transmission to prove a point.

“What is wrong with you?” I shook my head, grabbing the gear shift and slamming it into fourth as he hit the clutch.

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