Million Dollar Devil

8.

I wipe the tears from my face, catching my reflection in the rearview mirror. Smudged mascara, blotchy cheeks, a hollow look in my eyes. I grimace and scrub at my face with the sleeve of my shirt, trying to erase the evidence but all I end up doing is making it worse.

I fumble for my phone, hands trembling, and start typing my address into Uber.

"$100."

The number blinks up at me, cold and cruel.

"Fuck!" I slam my palm into the steering wheel, the crack of it ricocheting around the empty parking structure.

A hundred dollars. On top of rent. On top of the tow truck I'll need. On top of a car repair bill I can't even fathom.

I bury my face in my hands, willing myself not to spiral, not to lose it completely.
I can sleep at the office.
I can wake up at four and catch a bus.
Maybe Dom can drive me if I offer to pay for gas.

None of it feels like a real solution.

Knock knock.

I jump.

Peeking up through my blurry vision, I see him and freeze.

Mr. Hayes standing at my window, expression carved from stone, brows drawn low in a way that somehow makes him look even more striking under the harsh, flickering garage lights. He stares at me without flinching, as if assessing damage he isn't quite sure how to fix.

Feeling humiliated, I quickly wipe at my face again, forcing the corners of my mouth into something that resembles a smile. I open the door, and the metal creaks too loudly in the dead air.

"Hi, I'm sorry," I stammer, voice thick with leftover emotion. "My car won't start."

The words sound stupid the second they leave my mouth. I have no idea what I'm apologizing for. Existing, maybe. Being a mess in his perfect world.

His gaze sweeps over me slowly. Taking in the puffy eyes, the messy hair, the trembling hands. He exhales, slow and measured, closing his eyes briefly, as if collecting himself. Then, without a word, he turns and walks away.

I blink, confused and frozen in place.

He stops when he realizes I haven't moved and glances over his shoulder with a sigh.

"I'm taking you home, Lillian," he says, voice low but absolute. It isn't a suggestion. It isn't even a command. It's a simple fact.

My throat tightens. I open my mouth to protest, but the look he shoots me kills the words on my tongue. I swallow hard, grab my bag, and climb out of the car. I want to argue, to insist I can handle this. But the look in his eyes leaves no room for debate.

I grab my bag and climb out of the car, trailing after him like a lost puppy. We walk in silence across the parking garage, the sound of my boots echoing against the concrete.

A large black and white RESERVED sign hangs above an insanely sleek black sports car with platinum detailing. It looks straight out of a movie. I can't begin to imagine what he paid for this thing, and I take note of the brand with the intention of googling it later.  

He presses a button on his key fob and the doors swing up like wings. I can't help but gape openly.

Mr. Hayes slides smoothly into the driver's seat. I scramble awkwardly into the passenger side, trying not to touch anything. Inside, the car smells like clean leather and something dark and expensive.

I take in the interior. The black genuine leather seats, a giant high-tech looking screen, and insanely sleek platinum interior detailing. I'm practically inside a spaceship. It takes everything in me to hold myself back from running my hands over everything. I can only imagine the type of women who usually sit here. Probably models with legs so long they can barely sit comfortably in the seat. Fortunately for my stubby legs, I am more than comfortable.

"Address?" he asks, voice clipped.

"Right," I murmur and fumble to type it into the touchscreen. 

The engine roars to life as we leave the parking garage. I hope he will turn on something to fill the sound of silence, but no. Of course, this man drives in silence. It's only fitting for a drinker of black coffee. 

The only sounds are the hum of the car and the occasional, subtle click of the turn signal. His left hand grips the wheel; his right rests casually on the gear stick, veins visible under tanned skin.

I stare out the window, trying not to fidget, trying not to exist too loudly. My gaze flickers to his face, noting the sharp lines of his jaw and the way his features seem sculpted from stone. He's not just attractive, he's otherworldly, like someone out of a movie. 

I glance at him from the corner of my eye, our gazes meet, I freeze. He doesn't seem phased, just calmly shifts his attention back to the road.

At a red light, his voice cuts through the silence. "I'll have someone tow your car to my mechanic. A driver will take you to and from work tomorrow, as I will be leaving for Chicago."

 I whip my head toward him. "You really don't have to-"

He turns his head, his eyes locking onto me for just a moment. "It wasn't a request, Lillian." His tone is final, making it clear there's no space for negotiation. 

"He'll pick you up at seven." 

I snap my mouth shut.

He looks back at the road like the conversation never happened.

I sink deeper into the seat, pulse hammering in my ears.

We continue the rest of the drive in silence. His hand grips the shift stick, his veins prominent and a tiny tattoo playing peek-a-boo under the cuff of his sleeve. I try to keep my eyes out the window, though I find my gaze subconsciously shifting toward him. 

The closer we get to my apartment, the heavier the embarrassment in my chest grows.

When we pull into my street, my stomach knots painfully. Even from the outside, it's a dilapidated shit hole. I find myself becoming increasingly self-conscious, wishing I had him drop me off a block earlier. 

He parks in front without a word, surveying the area with a dissatisfied look that says more than any comment could.

"Well, this is my stop," I say awkwardly, "Thank you for everything. The tow, the ride, the driver. Really, I can't thank you enough." I smile, but I can't seem to get my eyes to meet his.

His gaze is distant, unreadable. "You're welcome," he mutters, nodding without much emotion.

I smile awkwardly, avoiding his eyes as I reach for the door handle. "I guess I'll see you on Monday. Safe travels." I step out of the car and close the door behind me. 

As I turn to walk away, I hear his voice again. "Goodnight, Lillian." His dark eyes lock onto mine one last time. I momentarily freeze, my heart taking a heavy beat. He doesn't wait for my response as the engine roars to life again, and he is quickly out of my sight.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Hello! Thank you so much for choosing to give my story a read. If you like it, it would mean the world if you click on that star button!

Your comments and votes really do make my day and encourage me to continue this story! I'm so thankful that you've continued to stick with it. Writing this story is a dream of mine, and I am so excited to share it with you all!

All my love,
Alexandra