"You said you love me? Then beg for it. Beg for my love. Show me-prove it again and again until I say yes."
Beatrix is a girl of few words, someone who keeps her emotions locked away, unwilling to let anyone close. After experiencing deep trust issu...
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Ethan :
"You can stop here," Beatrix called from the back seat.
"Here?" I asked, glancing at her through the mirror. She nodded, so I eased the car to a stop by the curb.
She stepped out, then leaned down to my window, flashing a small smile. "Thanks for the ride."
I gave her a nod, watching as she turned and walked away.
She hadn’t shared her full address, stopping a little short instead. Maybe she didn’t trust me. Maybe she thought I was just some guy who drove her out of obligation. Either way, I watched her disappear down the dimly lit street, a quiet sigh slipping from my lips.
As I pulled back onto the road, a thought crept into my mind—why had I driven her all this way? Her place was completely out of my way, and now I had a long drive back.
I told myself not to waste fuel next time.
Yet, as I drove, my gaze flickered to the rearview mirror, and an unbidden smile tugged at my lips.
Beatrix had chosen the back seat, a quiet presence for the entire ride. She hadn’t said much, just sat there, gazing out the window like she was lost in another world.
I remembered the way her eyes had lit up when she caught her reflection in the mirror. It was such a fleeting moment, but somehow, it stayed with me.
She was always so wrapped up in her own thoughts, completely unaware of her surroundings. Yet, the way she subtly tensed when she felt someone watching—how she shifted, just slightly, like she wasn’t sure if she should acknowledge it or pretend she didn’t notice—it was oddly… endearing.
There was something about her, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
A quiet mystery.
And for some reason, I wanted to understand it.
I had just parked my car when my phone buzzed. Dad’s secretary.
Of course.
I hadn’t answered any of his calls after leaving the house, and now he was using someone else to reach me. I let it ring for a moment before finally picking it up, but I didn’t say a word.
"Hello?" came the secretary’s hesitant voice.
And then, my father’s. "Ethan."
I could hear the shift of the phone—he must have snatched it from the guy.
"I know you can hear me. Where are you?" His tone was sharp, clipped. "Why do you insist on making this so complicated? Are you going to tell me where you are, or do I have to find out for myself?"
His questions came rapid-fire, one after another, like I was some employee who had missed an important meeting.
I sighed. "You called just to say that? I’m hanging up."
