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“I have to get out of here. I’m suffocating. Can we talk more calmly another day? I need to clear my head.”
“All right. Just let me know you got home safe.”
Taylor
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“Taylor?”
“Mr. Marshall?” I ask, completely taken aback when I spot a black car I already recognize parked by the bar.
William’s father steps out. “I needed to talk to you.”
“At this hour? And you came here? Couldn’t you have waited until tomorrow at your mother’s house?”
He looks somewhat embarrassed. “Yes, I could have, but I was eager to share the news.”
I’m really not in the mood for small talk. Partly because of his history—he’s shown up at my employer’s house now and then, hovering around me—and partly because it just doesn’t feel right.
I don’t have to be a genius to see William has serious trust issues, and from what I’ve learned about this man, they’re more than justified.
Still, I don’t want to be rude, so I offer a small smile. “I don’t understand. What could be so important?”
“Get in the car. I’ll give you a ride home. It’s about a job opportunity.”
I’m twenty-three, but my mindset’s basically that of a cop. “How’d you know you’d find me here right now? I usually leave much later.” I could also ask how he even knows about my second job, but besides not wanting to sound confrontational, I’ve learned the Marshall family tends to cross privacy lines whenever it suits them.
He doesn’t miss a beat. “It was just coincidence. I tried calling you, and when you didn’t pick up, I called the bar. Someone said you were leaving.”
“And so you decided to wait for me. Why, exactly?”
“This job opportunity.”
“I appreciate it, Mr. Marshall, but I don’t have any free time,” I lie, hoping nobody’s told him I got fired.
“That’s a shame. It would have been for next weekend, a reception at a friend’s home, and he’d pay a thousand dollars a night.”
I exert a supreme effort not to let my jaw drop. I really want to say I’ve thought it over and yes, I’ll do it, because God knows I need the cash. But my pride—and the gut feeling that screams it’s too good to be true—won’t let me go back on my word. “Yes, that’s a pity. I’m sorry you came all this way for nothing.”
“Let me at least drive you home.”
“No, thank you. That doesn’t feel right.”
He looks at me like he wants to say something else, but he keeps silent. Meanwhile, I’m praying he hasn’t seen the photo William mentioned—taken of us kissing in the club. Of course, it’s nearly impossible to recognize me, and given William’s reputation as a womanizer, it could be anyone.
He steps closer and holds out his hand. “I know you must have heard a lot of terrible things about me, Taylor, but I’m just trying to be a good friend. A protector.”
I shake it so as not to be rude, but when he places his other hand on top, keeping me near him too long, I pull mine away and step back. “I don’t want to be impolite, Mr. Marshall. Forgive me if I offended you—I’m just odd like that. Once again, sorry you wasted your time, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to be friends, and I don’t need a protector.”
“Coming here cost me nothing. But you’re mistaken. Everyone needs a protector. I’ll feel better knowing you’re safe.”
I frown. My God, what a strange choice of words. “I have to go now. Good night.”
I start walking quickly to the subway, and when I reach the corner, I glance back just in time to see his car driving off in the opposite direction.
I walk another hundred meters, and again, that creepy sensation of being followed sparks the hairs on my neck. My phone rings, but I ignore it. The last thing I need is to lose track of my surroundings by answering a call.
It’s a common mistake women make when walking alone at night: picking up the phone. That can distract you and make you an easier target. I always try to remember the safety lessons Dad taught me growing up.