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"Penny for your thoughts?" he asked.
"My thoughts are going to cost you more than a penny."
He gave me a wry smile. "Pennies I have, O'Connell. I can buy all of your thoughts if I want to."
"You think so? I think you can't buy a single part of me," I fired back and he bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to smile.
"Okay, poor choice of words. Still, I want to know what you're thinking."
"I was thinking that I wished I'd put on jeans this morning," I said, shocked at my own honesty. His hand tightened on my thigh and my breath hitched at the pressure.
Slowly, his hand trailed up my leg, taking the material of my dress with it before he carefully replaced his hand, this time on the bare skin he'd uncovered.
"Still wish you were wearing jeans?"
"I honestly have no idea what I wish." My hands gripped the leather seat as I fought the sensations his small touch sent through my body. His fingertips rested on my inner thigh. Just a little higher and…
"Why don't you let me decide for you?" His grip on my thigh tightened and my core tightened with it.
"I don't know you." That sounded so simple. Such a flimsy excuse. It was true, I didn't know him at all and yet it was also a lie. Some deep, visceral part of me did know him.
"Do you trust me?" He stopped at a red light and turned to face me. I looked over at the man who, within a few days, had managed to infiltrate every corner of my life and mind.
"No," I answered. He withdrew his hand, his mouth setting in a firm line.
"That's smart," he replied, his tone grim. The lights changed and we drove in silence for a few minutes when a thought suddenly occurred to me.
"Hey, how come you always seem to know where I am? You came to my house last night but I never told you where I live, and then today you just happened to turn up to my lunch with Keira? And don't give me any bullshit about it being a coincidence because I?—"
"I installed a tracker on your phone," he answered, as if he'd just told me that he'd changed his socks this morning. I gaped at him.
"No you didn't."
"I assure you I did, and before you decide to replace your phone, I had Elliot install one on your van too so there's really no point."
"You're an insane person, do you know that?" I stared at his profile, my mouth open.“Get rid of it. Now.”
“No,” he answered, his indifferent tone infuriating me, “it’s just a tracker. I won’t use it to find you unless I really need to and I can’t use it to view activity on your phone. Just think of it as a safety measure.”
“A safety measure? You expect me to believe you did this formybenefit?”
“No. I did it because it suited me.” Ah, so there was the Alfie Tell I’d read about in that article. He took a turn with ease, unaffected, whilst I sat here with fury boiling in my gut. “You have a right to be angry but it won’t change anything. I advise you to let it go.”
Let it go?He wanted me to just let it go?
“I’m not okay with this,” I said, as firmly as I could manage. This was something Adam would have done, but how could I explain that to this man I barely knew?
"I know. If it helps at all, I don't like this any more than you do and, just for the record, this sort of behaviour isn't a habit of mine."
"So why do I get the special treatment?"
"I'm not sure. When it comes to my personal life, I have rules in place. Rules that protect my business, my family, and myself. So far, I seem to be making you the exception to all of those rules."
"Why?"
"Because, O'Connell, I think you are exceptional."
I felt like my breath had stopped. Never in my life had I been called exceptional. Or anything even close. I felt a twinge in my gut as I realised that his compliment was likely calculated.