Page 9

I’m staring at the car like it’s a spaceship. Sleek, black, and mean-looking. The curves of the body scream expensive, and the way the sun hits it… yeah, this is a McLaren. I know it because Aaron, my ex, wouldn’t shut up about these cars every time one passed us in LA.

I hug my books closer. “I’m not driving that.”

Eli raises a brow, leaning casually against the car like he doesn’t notice the fortune he’s perched on. “Why not?”

“In case I crash it,” I snap, crossing my arms. “That’s why not.”

“You won’t crash it,” he says, his voice easy, like that’s all the reassurance I need.

I glance at the car again. This thing is a beast. I want to argue, but he’s already moving, opening the driver’s side door.

“Let’s go, princess,” he says, smirking like I’m amusing him.

I swallow hard and step forward, nerves twisting in my stomach.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, I can’t help but notice the buttery leather beneath me, the clean, masculine scent of the interior.

It smells like… I don’t know, rich fuck boy and confidence.

I glare at him for a moment as my entire opinion of him changes once again.

“What car is this?” I ask, my voice barely steady.

Eli settles into the passenger seat, closing the door with a soft thud. He leans back, clearly at home. “You mean you don’t know?”

I glare at him, not in the mood for his games.

He smirks. “McLaren 720S. Didn’t know you’d be impressed.”

“I’m not into cars,” I admit, running my fingers lightly over the smooth steering wheel. “But this is…”

He lifts his hand. “Can you help me with my belt?”

I blink, caught off guard. “What?”

“My hand,” he says, holding it up again like I’m dumb. “Can’t use it properly. Help me out?”

I call bullshit. We just glare at each other for a moment. With a sigh, I lean over, my fingers fumbling with the belt. He smells incredible like something sharp and woodsy mixed with the leather of the seat. I hate that my cheeks get hot, and I’m hyper-aware of the way he’s watching me.

I finish buckling him in and pull back quickly, staring straight at the dashboard. “How do I drive this thing?”

He grins, like he’s enjoying this way too much. “Push-to-start. Foot on the brake, hit the button.”

I follow his instructions, and the car roars to life. The engine’s deep growl vibrates through the seat, sending a rush of adrenaline through me.

Before I can adjust to the sound, his phone rings. The name on the screen flashes across the sleek dashboard display: Real Estate Lady .

He answers, putting it on speaker. “Yeah?”

The woman’s voice pours out, soft and flirtatious. “Eli, I’ve got your papers ready. Should I drop them off at your place later? You bruised my throat yesterday, but I have an off day tomorrow and three condoms with your name on it.”

I almost choke on my own spit. Her tone is pure sex, and I’d bet money she’s twirling her hair while she talks.

Eli clears his throat. “You’re on speaker. I’m not alone.”

“Oh. The papers, Mr. Grayson?”

“Are you free this evening?” he asks.

There’s a beat of silence, and then her voice shifts. Professional now. “Oh, of course. I can bring them then, Mr. Grayson.”

“Perfect,” he says, hanging up without another word.

I glance at him, my eyebrows raised. “Wow. Total girl trouble,” I joke.

He chuckles and then his eyes sweep down my body. “Jealous?”

“What? No.” I scoff, shaking my head. “I don’t even know you.”

“You could,” he says, that smirk back in full force.

“No thanks. You’re not my type.”

“Oh, yeah?” He shifts, turning to face me more. “And how do you know that?”

I keep my eyes on the dash, gripping the wheel. I should shut this down, but the words slip out before I can stop them. “I’m… a virgin. I’m not out here just screwing anyone.”

The air between us goes still.

“Shit,” I blurt, heat rushing to my face as I glance at him. “I didn’t mean to freak you out. Forget it.”

He doesn’t laugh or make a smartass comment, which somehow makes it worse.

“Ready to go?” he asks, his voice surprisingly gentle.

I nod, grateful for the subject change.

“Alright, let’s roll. I’ll direct you.”

I put the car in gear and pull out of the parking lot. The engine’s purr turns into a growl as I press the gas pedal, and I can’t help the small grin that tugs at my lips.

“This is so cool,” I mutter, my nerves forgotten as I take the first turn.

Eli chuckles, watching me. “You look hot driving this thing.”

I glance at him, my grip tightening on the wheel. “Stop.”

“You blush a lot, you know that? Kinda inappropriate.”

I snap my head toward him. “Me? Inappropriate? What about Real Estate Lady on the phone?”

He grins. “So, you are jealous.”

“Jesus Christ,” I groan, rolling my eyes. “Can you just tell me where to turn?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He gives me directions, and I focus on the road, trying to ignore the weight of his gaze on me.

This is going to be a long drive.

The security gates slide open, and I ease the McLaren through, the engine purring like it owns the damn place.

It probably does. Eli hasn’t said a word since the last turn, and I don’t know if that’s because he’s impressed I haven’t crashed his ridiculously expensive car or because he’s plotting something.

“Straight ahead?” I ask, glancing over at him.

He stretches in the passenger seat, looking entirely too comfortable for someone who just tricked me into driving a car that costs more than my entire college education. “Mm-hmm. Through the next gate.”

I eye him suspiciously as we roll up to another security checkpoint. The guard waves us through, recognizing the car. Eli.

“You know,” I start, glancing at the GPS on the dashboard, “there’s a shorter way to get here. You took the scenic route.”

Eli’s lips twitch, but he keeps his gaze forward. “Did I?”

I nod, warming up to my mini rant. “Yeah. If you’d turned left back at—”

His smirk deepens, and I stop mid-sentence, narrowing my eyes at him. “Wait a minute. Did you—”

“Did I what?” His voice is smooth and innocent, but the amusement is all over his face.

“You made me drive around on purpose!”

“Maybe,” he admits, dragging out the word like he’s savoring it.

I gape at him, part annoyed, part impressed. “Why?”

“You looked like you were having fun.”

I want to argue, to call him out, but instead, I laugh, shaking my head. “Okay. Maybe I did.”

He flashes me a grin that could melt steel. “Told you.”

We pull into the underground parking garage, and I slide the car into an empty spot with a sigh of relief. No scratches. No crashes. Success.

“All right,” I say, pushing the door open. “I’m calling my Uber now.”

Eli climbs out of the car, stretching again. His movements are so casual it’s almost irritating. “Not so fast. I’ll need help with my door.”

I freeze mid-step. “What, is it stuck or something?”

“No, but I figured you’d be helpful. Or are you in a hurry to leave?” He raises an eyebrow, the challenge clear.

“I thought you had a hot date with the real estate lady.” I cross my arms.

“She’s not coming until seven,” he replies.

“I know your hand is just fine, Eli,” I mutter, following him toward the elevator.

He doesn’t reply.

Inside, the air feels cooler, quieter, until the doors open again, and a couple with a massive dog step in. The thing is practically a small horse, and I instinctively step back, bumping right into Eli.

“Sorry,” I mumble, glancing up at him. Big mistake. His gray eyes lock on mine, and for a second, the elevator doesn’t exist. Just him and that damn look.

He leans down, his voice low and rough in my ear. “Don’t worry, princess. I’ve got you.”

I should move. I should step forward, but instead, I stay rooted to the spot, his arm settling around my waist like it belongs there. The warmth of his hand, the subtle pressure, the scent of him, clean and woodsy, mess with my brain in ways I don’t want to admit.

The elevator stops, and the couple leaves, taking the dog with them. But I don’t move. Not even when the doors slide shut again.

“You good?” His voice snaps me out of whatever the hell that was.

“Yeah,” I lie, stepping forward like I haven’t just been plastered to him.

We finally reach the top floor, and he pulls out a key card, handing it to me. “Here. You can do the honors.”

I swipe it against the panel, the door clicking open with a soft beep. “Okay. Door’s open. I’m leaving now.”

Eli steps past me, tossing his keys onto a sleek black console table. “You hungry?”

I blink at him, caught off guard. “What?”

“Dinner. Have you eaten?”

“No. Why?”

He shrugs, heading for the kitchen. “I’ll order something.”

“I don’t need—”

“What if I need help opening the containers?” He cuts me off, throwing a glance over his shoulder.

I narrow my eyes. “I’m pretty sure you’re capable of opening takeout boxes.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” He smirks. “Chinese okay?”

I sigh, giving in because I’m starving and honestly, I’m too tired to argue. “Fine. Chinese.”

We bicker over the menu for a few minutes, settling on dumplings, fried rice, and some spicy noodle dish he insists is the best thing ever.

While he makes the call, I wander into the living room. It’s massive, all floor-to-ceiling windows and modern furniture straight out of Architectural Digest. No personal touches though. No photos, no knick-knacks. Just clean lines and ridiculous luxury.

Eli is fucking rich. Like, disgustingly rich.

I sink into a gray leather sofa, letting it swallow me whole. The view alone is worth more than my life savings.

“You’re making yourself at home,” Eli says, strolling in.

I glance up at him. He’s leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching me like I’m more interesting than I actually am.

“Hard not to,” I admit, waving a hand at the room. “This place is insane.”

He grins, pushing off the frame and walking toward me. “Insane in a good way?”

I roll my eyes. “Obviously.”

“Good.” He plops down beside me, way too close for comfort. “Food will be here in twenty.”

Great. Now I’m stuck here for at least another half hour.