Chapter 6 Awkward

Evelyn's POV

I passed the second interview. I spent a long time debating whether to actually take the job.

But realistically, nothing else came close, not the pay, not the benefits.

So I gritted my teeth and showed up for my first day at Brode's company.

At least the first few days were bearable. No one iced me out. A couple of the coworkers in my office were genuinely kind.

The weather had been ugly for two days. A hurricane had hit San Verona. Storms rolled in and out, traffic was paralyzed city-wide, and I couldn't even get a cab.

I was getting ready to sleep at the office when a black armored Maybach pulled up in front of me.

The window rolled down. The driver looked at me. "Miss. Mr. Brode has asked you to get in."

Brode was in the back, sunglasses on, not looking at me. A cold, carved statue.

The wind nearly tore the umbrella out of my hand. I didn't have the energy to worry about how I must have looked. I just murmured a thank-you, folded the umbrella, and got in.

Sofia wasn't in the car. That made it worse somehow. Brode had his mouth pressed into a tight line. He didn't speak.

I awkwardly pulled a tissue from my bag and dabbed at my damp hair.

When I looked up again, his eyes were on me. Locked on.

I started to feel exposed. "Is there something on me?" I asked, uncomfortable.

"No. Nothing."

Short, clipped. Then he turned his face toward the window.

The rain outside was coming down in sheets. The world beyond the glass was blurred, but I could still tell which road we were on.

When we got to the street where my apartment was, I said, "You can drop me off here. I'm home."

Brode finally deigned to look at me. "I never said I was taking you home."

That shut me up.

"Then…"

My nerves started climbing as the car headed toward the outskirts. My heart was in my throat.

The silence was suffocating. I had my hands balled into fists on my knees. Then, out of nowhere, he asked, "How are you settling in at the office?"

It took me a second. "Fine. I'm settling in."

I didn't know how much of my hire had Brode's fingerprints on it.

The question was strange. I couldn't figure out why someone who hated me this much would ask.

In his eyes right now, I was probably the lowest, most hypocritical kind of woman.

The car pulled off the main road. The view outside got less and less familiar.

I recognized this road, it led to the cliffs. To the villa I'd once lived in with him.

I had no idea why Brode was taking me there, but I didn't want to go back.

There was too much there I didn't want to remember.

I kept my voice as calm as I could. "Mr. Brode, please pull over. I'll find my own way back."

No response. He didn't even turn his head.

The rain must have been loud outside, but the armored cabin sealed all of it out. It left only the unbearable silence between us.

I drew in a breath and turned to face him. "Did you hear me? I want to get out."

This time, he reacted.

He slowly took off his sunglasses and turned to look at me. His gaze slid from my wet hair down to my clenched hands. The corner of his mouth lifted, just slightly.

"Get out?" His voice was low, threaded with mockery. "And do what? Walk back to that broken-down apartment of yours in weather like this? The one where the heat doesn't even work?"

The words were like a dull blade. Each one pressed down into me.

I bit down on my lip and forced myself to hold his gaze. "That's my problem. Not yours."

"Your problem?" He leaned in slowly, pressure radiating off him, the distance between us shrinking.

That familiar cigar scent mixed with rain hit me. I held my breath on instinct.

"Evelyn. You're in my car, in my city. What exactly do you think still belongs to you?"

In that moment I saw it clearly, the man sitting across from me was not the Brode of three years ago. The one who'd held the umbrella over me. The one who stayed up all night when I was sick.

This was Brode Ramsden. The Don of San Verona. The man everyone feared. The man who could end your life with the flick of a finger.

The driver swerved hard. I lost my balance and pitched forward.

His hand shot out and caught my shoulder. I flinched back like I'd been burned.

"Sit still," he said shortly. Then he pulled his hand away and settled back into his seat like nothing had happened.

I stared at his cold profile. That flash of something in him, the contradiction of it, tore through me.

He hated me. So why had he caught me just now? Why, right after saying those things?

The car kept moving through the storm, winding up the cliffside road.

I forced myself to look out the window, watching the once-familiar landscape flash by in the rain.

I'd walked this road with him so many times three years ago, always on my way to that fortress with something like joy.

Now I felt like a prisoner being escorted back.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked suddenly.

I turned. His eyes were studying me. I let my mind go blank and answered quietly, "I'm thinking about why I fell in love with you three years ago."

The air in the cabin went still.

I saw his jaw tighten. Veins stood out on the hand holding the lighter.

"Love?" He gave a soft laugh, voice heavy with contempt. "Evelyn. What are you talking about? The 'love' you know is just money and power and status. You love whoever can give it to you."

You shallow, vile woman.

I could see it in his eyes, the hatred he carried for what I'd done to him. I dropped my head and let it go. I wasn't going to argue.

I'd been about to explain. To tell him the real reason I'd left. My mother's gambling debts. The men showing up at my door with threats. That I hadn't wanted to drag him into it.

But the words stopped in my throat.

What would it change? Three years had passed. He was the Don of this city now, and I was still the woman life had kicked into a corner.

And besides, there was already someone he held close, someone he spoiled. What did my existence mean to him?

The car finally stopped. I looked up. Through the rain-blurred window, I saw it, that fortress rising at the edge of the cliff.