Page 18 of Lady and the Hitman
Except it wasn’t an offer.
It was a command.
“Okay,” I said softly. “One bag.”
“Thirty seconds.”
I moved.
Fast.
Not because of the deadline. Not because I was scared he’d leave. But because I didn’t trust myself to survive what would happen if he stayed still any longer.
I threw on a loose black dress, slid flats into a duffel with a second outfit, toothbrush, lip balm, passport. I don’t know why I grabbed that last one. Instinct, maybe. Or because some part of me believed him—that we weren’t just going downtown.
When I turned back, he already had the front door open.
The world outside felt wrong. Too bright. Too real.
A black Hummer was parked at the curb.
And for the first time, I realized how stupid this could be. How dangerous.
I didn’t even know his name.
He reached out and took the bag from my hand like it weighed nothing. His fingers brushed mine. Warm. Solid. Real.
And then he looked at me.
“You can still say no.”
I stared up at him.
And whispered, “I won’t.”
He nodded once.
Then he opened the passenger door.
And I stepped inside.
The door shut behind me with a soft, final thud. Not loud. Not dramatic.
Just … certain.
I sat very still in the passenger seat, my knees together, fingers twisted around the strap of my bag like it might anchor me to something real.
The interior of the Hummer smelled like leather. Not overpowering—subtle. Male. Sharp.
He climbed in beside me, silent, then started the engine with a low growl that vibrated beneath my seat. Everything about this vehicle was oversized. Dominant. A fortress on wheels.
We pulled away from the curb, and still, he didn’t speak.
He drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gear shift like he owned every inch of the road—and maybe he did. There was no hesitation in his movements. No GPS, no questions, no uncertainty.
He knew where he was going.
The silence stretched between us like thread pulled tight.
