Chapter 21

Scott’s lips pressed gently to my forehead, his warmth lingering even after he pulled back from the kiss. He brushed a thumb across my cheek as if I were fragile like a baby, and for a fleeting moment, I melted into that tenderness. 

“Enjoy your first lesson,” he said, his voice smooth but purposeful. And then, before I could even beg him not to leave me with Ace, he tossed the car keys neatly to him. 

Ace caught them effortlessly, his grin spreading slowly and deliberately, like he had been waiting all morning for this moment. 

Scott’s hand lingered at the small of my back one last time before he turned and walked back inside, the heavy doors of the entrance closing behind him with a resonant thud. 

I exhaled sharply. Alone with the one person I’m trying to resist. With Ace. 

“After you,” he said smoothly, dangling the keys for effect as he unlocked the car with a soft click. His tone carried that cocky arrogance, as though the entire world bent for his amusement. 

I hesitated for a heartbeat, glaring at him, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me flustered. Squaring my shoulders, I moved toward the passenger side. Ace was already there, opening the door for me with an exaggerated flourish. 

“Your chariot awaits,” he teased. 

I slid into the plush leather seat, the new-car scent enveloping me immediately rich leather, faint adhesive, a whisper of something metallic. The interior was immaculate, every surface gleaming, the stitching seamless. Luxurious didn’t even begin to describe it. 

Ace jogged around to the driver’s side and slid in beside me, settling into the seat like it had always belonged to him. He started the engine, and the low purr vibrated through my bones, smooth and powerful. 

“First lesson,” he said, glancing at me with a smirk. “This isn’t just a car, Sabrina. It’s a machine. Treat it with respect, and it’ll take care of you. Abuse it, and…” He trailed off, letting the weight of his words hang. 

I rolled my eyes slightly. “I think I get the picture.” 

Unfazed, he began pointing out the basics. The gear shift, the pedal sensitivity, the touch-screen controls. His voice carried the authority of someone who knew exactly what he was talking about, and all I could do was listen because he did, in fact, know what he was talking about. 

But then, he shifted. 

“So,” he said casually, his hands steady on the wheel as we glided down the secluded road, “you and my father seem to be getting closer.” 

I stiffened. “Closer?” 

“Don’t play coy.” His smirk deepened, his eyes flicking toward me for a split second before returning to the road. “I see the way you look at him. The way he looks at you.” 

I narrowed my eyes. “Scott isn’t just your father, Ace. He’s my husband, and I’m supposed to be close to him.” 

The word landed between us with weight. Husband. My chest warmed even saying it, though part of me wondered if I was reminding him or myself. 

Ace scoffed, a short, dismissive sound. “Husband, right. Okay.” 

I turned sharply in my seat to glare at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing,” he said, though his tone suggested otherwise. He smirked again, shifting gears with a casual flick. “Just funny hearing you say it. Are you trying to convince someone?” 

Anger prickled at my skin, but before I could retort, his hand drifted, resting lightly against my thigh. 

I froze. Heat sparked under his touch, unwelcome and confusing. My body reacted before my mind could catch up, a pulse of awareness rushing through me. But my instincts snapped back hard, and I shoved his hand away. 

“Don’t,” I snapped, sharper than I intended. 

His jaw ticked, the smile faltering for just a second before he caught it, covering it with that maddening cool demeanor. “Relax, Sabrina. I was just making sure you’re comfortable.” 

“Comfortable?” My laugh was bitter, edged with fury. “You think that’s how you make me comfortable?” 

His grip tightened on the wheel, knuckles paling, but his voice remained smooth. “Fine. Lesson one: don’t touch the driver.” 

I crossed my arms, staring out the window, ignoring the way my pulse still betrayed me. 

The road stretched on, quiet and secluded, lined with tall trees that whispered in the breeze. Ace continued explaining the car’s features, pointing out the subtle handling, the safety controls, and the effortless steering. I listened because I had to, because this car was mine now. After all, Scott had made it clear Ace would be my teacher whether I liked it or not. 

Minutes passed, and slowly, the tension eased. At least on the surface. 

After a while, Ace pulled the car to a stop on a wide, empty stretch of road. He cut the engine and turned toward me, expression unreadable. 

“Your turn,” he said. 

My stomach twisted. “What?” 

“You didn’t think I’d let you just sit there, did you?” He unbuckled his seatbelt and got out, striding around to my side. The door opened, sunlight spilling in. “Switch.” 

I hesitated, but his expectant gaze left little room for refusal. With a sigh, I slid out of the passenger seat and circled the car, my heart thudding. The driver’s seat felt enormous as I settled in, the steering wheel heavy in my hands. 

Ace leaned against the open window, arms crossed. “Foot on the brake. Hands at ten and two. Gentle with the gas, this car isn’t forgiving.” 

I did as he instructed, nerves fluttering wildly. Slowly, the car crept forward, and he jogged back around to slide into the passenger seat. 

“That’s it,” he said, his tone almost encouraging. “Steady. Easy.” 

I kept my focus on the road, refusing to meet his gaze. My palms sweated against the wheel, but with every passing second, the motion grew smoother, more natural. The car responded to me, obedient and precise. 

When the estate’s gates came back into view, a tentative pride flickered in my chest. I had done it. Small as it was. 

I parked carefully, exhaling in relief. My shoulders sagged, but before I could celebrate, Ace’s voice cut through. 

“You’ll come begging for me.” 

The words dropped like a stone. My head snapped toward him, shock and confusion tangling inside me. 

“But just know this,” he added, his eyes gleaming with something sharp and cruel, “my father will never love you.” 

I stared at him, frozen, the sting of his words slicing deeper than I wanted to admit. He smirked once more, unbuckled his belt, and slipped out of the car without another glance. 

The door shut with a heavy thud, leaving me alone in the silence, his words echoing through me like poison. 

I sat there, gripping the wheel, trying to breathe past the ache blooming in my chest.