Chapter 64

I was still frozen by the exit, Drew’s words echoing in my head.

I’m taking you home.

I should have protested, asked why, and told him it wasn’t necessary. But the way Drew said it… there wasn’t room for discussion.

It wasn’t a request. He hadn’t even looked at me like I had the option to refuse. And that was the part that had my mind spinning.

I finally moved, my feet dragging me toward the glass doors that led out to the parking lot. My bag felt heavier than usual and my heels clicked against the smooth floor, echoing faintly in the quiet hallway.

I could feel the curious stares even as I moved out of sight. The kind of look that said the story of what just happened out there was already making its way from desk to desk.My pulse was still uneven from the earlier scene with Max, but now there was something else tangled in it, something warmer and more dangerous.

The evening light had softened into a faint golden wash over the rows of parked cars. The air smelled faintly of asphalt and the faint whiff of someone’s cigarette lingering from a distant corner.

Employees were still trickling out in pairs and small groups, their voices carrying in low murmurs. But I couldn’t hear them properly over the steady hum of my own thoughts.

Every step felt like a strange mix of dread and curiosity.

Max was still out there somewhere, probably fuming and definitely plotting. That was reason enough to keep my guard up. But Drew… Drew taking this kind of step for me? That was a complication I didn’t know how to process.

When I reached the executive parking area, the difference was almost laughable.

The main lot was crowded, filled with everyday cars, sedans, hatchbacks and the occasional SUV lined up neatly in painted rows. The executive section, tucked further in and shielded off by a black metal barrier, looked like something from a luxury showroom.

Drew’s car was impossible to miss. A sleek, deep graphite BMW with paint so polished it caught the last rays of the setting sun and turned them into liquid silver streaks across the hood. The low, smooth lines of the body made it look fast even standing still, and the quiet authority it exuded matched him perfectly.

He was already there, one hand resting lightly on the roof as he unlocked it with a muted click. By the time I reached him, he had the driver’s side open and was leaning in to place something, probably his briefcase on the passenger seat.

“Why are you driving me home?” The question slipped out before I could dress it up, my voice carrying more surprise than caution.

He straightened, his movements unhurried, and looked at me with that same unreadable calm he carried everywhere. “With Max out there, I’m not letting you walk into the night alone.” His tone was flat, practical, like he was talking about a minor business errand. “I just want to make sure you get home safe.”

I didn’t know whether to be grateful or more afraid. Grateful because some part of me wanted to believe this was genuine concern. Afraid because if he was willing to go this far for me now, I could only imagine how deep his anger would run if he ever found out the truth.

The truth I was still hiding.

I forced a small nod and moved around to the passenger side. Sliding into the seat was like stepping into another version of the world.

The interior smelled faintly of leather and something darker, his cologne, probably. The leather seats were smooth and cool under my palms, the stitching precise, the dashboard clean enough to pass a showroom inspection.

The engine came alive with a low, confident hum when he turned the key. Not loud, not showy, just a sound that told you it had more than enough power to do whatever it wanted.

He pulled out of the lot smoothly, merging onto the main road without so much as a glance toward the rear view mirror. “Directions,” he said simply, his hand resting loose on the wheel.

I gave them in short, clipped bursts: turn left here, and go straight for three blocks. After that you turn right at the light.

The rest of the time, the only sound was the soft purr of the car and the faint hum of the tires over asphalt.

I glanced at him once or twice when I thought I could get away with it. His attention was fixed on the road, jaw set, one hand resting easily on the wheel. He didn’t fidget or glance at his phone. He just drove, focused, calm and steady, as if the silence wasn’t strange at all. I couldn’t tell if that focus was on driving… or on whatever thoughts he wasn’t sharing.

My mind wouldn’t stop playing back the scene in the office, the way Max’s voice had dripped venom when he looked at me, the way Drew’s gaze had lingered like he was trying to read something beneath the surface. And now, here I was, in his car, the silence between us stretching thin like a wire.

We passed the small park two streets from my apartment, the one where I had gone just to get some air or clear my head. Drew’s gaze flicked toward it for half a second before returning to the road.

“Here,” I said when we reached my street.

He slowed, pulling into a space just outside my building. I unbuckled, my hand already reaching for the door handle. “Thank you for driving me home. Goodnight” I said, my voice quiet but sincere.

I had one foot out before I realized he was also undoing his seatbelt.

I turned, surprised. “You’re getting out?”

He shut his door with an easy push, his expression almost bored. “Won’t you at least offer me coffee?”

The question sounded casual, but it caught me completely off guard.

“Coffee?”

He gave a small shrug. “Besides, Max might be lurking around. I would rather make sure you’re inside safely before I leave.”

I hesitated. Part of me wanted to say no, not because I didn’t want him inside, but because the idea of him in my personal space, after the day we just had, felt like it would unravel me in ways I wasn’t ready for.

But the logic in his words was hard to argue with. And maybe… maybe letting him in would make it harder for Max to come anywhere near.

“Fine,” I said finally, pushing the door open fully. “Come in.”

We walked up the short flight of stairs to my building’s entrance, the echo of our steps bouncing faintly off the walls.

I was aware of every detail, the faint scent of someone’s cooking drifting from a neighbor’s apartment, the cool brush of the handrail against my palm, the sound of Drew’s shoes behind me, steady and even.

Inside my apartment, I moved quickly, setting my bag down on the small table by the door and heading for the kitchen. “Coffee, right?”

“Yes.” He was already glancing around, his eyes sweeping over the space with quiet curiosity.

I shrugged off my coat. “I’ll get you that coffee, you can just wait here” I said, moving toward the kitchen.

In the quiet, I filled the kettle, pulled down two mugs, and tried not to think about how strange it felt to have him here. Drew Sinclair, in my apartment.

When I returned with two steaming mugs, he was standing by the window, one hand in his pocket. He turned when I approached, his gaze flicking from the mug to my face.

“This is the first time I’ve been in your home,” he said.

I hesitated, handing him his own cup of coffee. “Yeah… I guess it is.”

He took it without breaking eye contact, then let his gaze drift around again. “It’s nice. Warm. Comfortable.”

“Thank you.”

An awkward silence settled between us. Not tense exactly, just heavy.

I could feel his eyes again, not in a way that felt invasive, but in a way that made the air seem denser, thicker. Like there was something unspoken sitting just between us.

It made me very aware and conscious of him, of myself and of the space between us that suddenly felt like it was narrowing.

It was the kind of look that made me wonder if he was thinking about stepping closer

And for a flicker of a moment, I could have sworn…

…That Drew wanted to kiss me.