Mr CEO - Daniel Ricciardo

Six

Daniel's POV

The car rolled to a stop, the rain still pattering relentlessly against the windows. Gerard shifted in his seat, waiting for further instructions, but I barely noticed. My eyes were fixed on the outside, taking in the street.

It wasn't exactly unexpected—I knew London well enough to recognise its rougher parts—but seeing Claudelle's home in this kind of neighborhood stirred something in me. Something uncomfortable.

I glanced over at her. She was already fumbling with her bag, clearly eager to get out of the car. The tension in her shoulders was obvious. I wasn't an idiot; I knew what this was.

Embarrassment.

She didn't want me to see where she lived, didn't want me to think less of her. But I didn't. How could I? She was one of the brightest, hardest-working people in the office, and where she lived didn't change that.

"Thank you for the ride, Mr. Ricciardo," she said hurriedly, already reaching for the door handle. I caught the slight tremor in her voice, the way she avoided looking at me directly. "You didn't have to—"

"Hold on," I interrupted, my hand already on my seatbelt. "I'll walk you up."

Her head snapped toward me, her eyes wide with surprise. "No, that's really not necessary. It's just a short walk up the stairs, I'll be fine."

I gave her a flat look. "It's late, Claudelle. And raining. I'm walking you up."

She shifted uncomfortably, her cheeks flushing, though whether it was from the cold or her embarrassment, I couldn't tell. "Mr. Ricciardo, I'm not a child. I can walk myself up. Besides..." She trailed off, glancing out the window again, the unspoken message clear. She didn't want me to see any more of this place.

"Gerard, I'll be back in a moment," I said firmly, ignoring her protests as I stepped out of the car. The rain hit me immediately, soaking through my clothes, but I didn't care. I walked around to her side and opened the door.

Claudelle blinked up at me, clearly torn between wanting to argue and just wanting to get out of the situation. She opened her mouth to protest again, but the words seemed to get stuck in her throat when she saw me standing there, already drenched.

"Fine," she muttered under her breath, grabbing her things. "But you're getting soaked for nothing."

I didn't respond. As she stepped out of the car, I motioned toward the building, and she started walking ahead of me. Her apartment block was... well, it had seen better days.

The concrete was cracked, the stairs leading up to the entrance worn down and slick with rainwater. The lights in the corridor were dim, flickering slightly as if they were on the verge of burning out.

Claudelle hurried up the steps, her shoulders hunched against the rain, clearly wanting to make this as quick and painless as possible.

But I didn't rush. I kept pace behind her, scanning the area with a practiced eye. This wasn't the kind of place you wanted to be alone at night.

When we reached the door to her apartment, she fumbled with her keys, her fingers shaking a little. "Really, Mr. Ricciardo, you didn't have to do this," she said quietly, not looking at me. "I'm used to it. I manage just fine."

I frowned, leaning against the wall next to her. "It's not about whether you manage. It's about the fact that I don't like the idea of you walking up here alone in the dark." My voice came out more sharply than I intended, and she flinched slightly. I sighed, running a hand through my wet hair. "Sorry. I just don't think it's safe."