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I shriek in surprise.

“It’s me,” he says, like that’s supposed to make me feel any better.

“Um—but—where are we going?” I splutter, as I find myself moving involuntarily toward his vehicle.

“Get in the car,” he orders.

“But… my Uber rating…”

“Get in the car, Quinn,” he growls, propelling me there with his man strength.

The uber driver puts his window down, craning his neck, probably to see if I’m being abducted.

“Sorry!” I shout at him. “I have another ride! I’ll five-star you?—!”

Harlan tosses me into his backseat and follows me in, slamming the door. I barely hold onto my cake. He takes the box from me and sets it on the floor, on the far side of him, as we pull away from the curb.

Then he crowds me in, leaning all into my space.

The black separator is up, so I can’t even see Manus or whoever is driving.

“Where are we going? Did I just get kidnapped?”

“I’m asking the questions,” he says, fuming. “Where were you going just now?”

Why ishefuming?

And what is he doing, showing up out of nowhere to snatch me off the street?

I haven’t seen him in almost a week. According to him, I was never supposed to see him again.

I take a moment to catch my breath, trying to calm my pounding heart, but it’s impossible to stop the heat that rushes to my face in embarrassment as he stares me down.

“To your house,” I admit.

He blinks at me, raindrops clinging to his dark eyelashes. He swipes a hand over his face. “My house,” he repeats angrily.

“Yes. I made you a cake.”

He glares at me, incredulous. At least his furious breathing is slowly getting under control.

“A cake?”

“Yes. That box you practically threw on the floor? It’s a thank-you cake.”

Now he looks even more pissed. “What the hell for?”

“Jeez. Don’t they send you to, like, etiquette school or something when you grow up rich?”

His dark eyebrows twist irritably.

“Manners. You could really work on yours, you know.”

His nostrils flare like an angry bull as he inhales deeply. “What is the cake for, Quinn?” he asks, a little calmer and maybe five percent nicer.

I’ll take it. Baby steps.

“I wanted to thank you for what you did for me. You know, arranging that job for me? I know you were trying to help. It was… considerate of you.”