Chapter 23

Diane's POV

The feeling refuses to leave me.

Even after I slide into the taxi and slam the door shut, even after the driver asks for my address twice and I answer like my mouth has a mind of its own, the uneasiness clings to my skin like sweat. Heavy. Sticky. Wrong.

I press my back against the seat and wrap my arms around myself. The cold from outside still lingers on my skin, mixing with the warmth of the car until everything feels suffocating.

"Madam... your address?" the driver asks again.

I blink slowly, then tell him.

The taxi pulls away from Conrad's building, the tall structure shrinking behind me in the rear window. I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding, my fingers drifting to my lips.

God.

Tonight is a disaster.

My mind replays everything: the wine, the tension, my stupid confession, the moment my hands... I squeeze my eyes shut, heat crawling up my neck.

Why do I always lose control around Conrad Beaumont?

I drag in a shaky breath and force myself to stare out the window. The city lights blur into streaks of gold and white. People move along the sidewalks, laughter drifting faintly through the glass, horns blaring occasionally.

Normal life. Normal people. So why do I feel like prey?

A prickle runs down my spine.

Slowly, I glance at the side mirror.

A black car sits two vehicles behind us. Nothing strange, right?

I shift slightly, pretending to adjust my purse while sneaking another look.

Still there. Same distance. Same steady speed.

My heart thumps harder.

Okay, Diane, relax. You just came out of an emotionally charged night. Your brain is playing tricks on you.

I swallow and force my gaze forward. One minute passes. Two.

The car is still there.

Cold dread creeps into my chest. I lean forward slightly, my voice low. "Please... can you take another route?"

The driver frowns through the mirror. "Another route?"

"Yes... just avoid the main road."

He shrugs and turns at the next junction.

My fingers dig into my dress as I watch the mirror again.

The black car follows.

My breath hitches.

"Stop... stop here," I say suddenly.

The driver slows near a small convenience shop glowing under bright fluorescent lights. I throw money at him and step out quickly, my heels clicking loudly against the pavement.

The cold night air slaps my face, but I barely feel it. My eyes scan the road as I pretend to check my phone, my chest rising and falling rapidly.

The black car slows as it approaches. My pulse pounds in my ears.

It drives past.

Doesn't stop. Doesn't slow further. Just keeps going.

I exhale shakily, leaning against the shop wall. Maybe I'm paranoid. Maybe the alcohol is still messing with my senses.

My phone buzzes in my hand.

Freaky Boss: Did you get home safely?

Of course not. I type quickly.

Me: I think someone was following me.

Three dots appear immediately.

Freaky Boss: Where are you?

Me: Small shop near my street.

Freaky Boss: Stay there.

My heart thuds.

I don't reply again. I just wait, staring at the road while pretending to scroll through messages. Every passing car makes my shoulders tense. Every shadow feels alive.

Five minutes later, a sleek, familiar car pulls up in front of me.

Conrad steps out.

The moment I see him, something inside me loosens. Relief floods my chest before I can stop it.

"What happened?" he asks, his voice low, his eyes scanning me from head to toe like he's checking for injuries.

"I... maybe nothing," I admit, hugging my arms tighter. "There was a black car behind my taxi. It followed when we changed routes."

His jaw tightens. "License plate?"

"I didn't check."

He glances down the road, his eyes sharp, calculating. For a moment, silence hangs between us, heavy and tense.

"Get in the car." He says finally.

"I can go home myself..."

"That wasn't a suggestion."

I roll my eyes, but my feet move anyway. The inside of his car smells faintly of leather and his cologne, dark, familiar, oddly comforting.

We drive in silence.

The quiet isn't awkward, just heavy. My mind keeps replaying the earlier events, and my cheeks burn again.

"You're quiet." He suddenly speaks

"So are you."

"I'm thinking."

"That's dangerous." I mutter.

A faint smirk tugs at his lips. "Still embarrassed about your attack on my dignity?"

"Oh my God." I groan, covering my face. "Please forget tonight."

"Impossible." He says calmly.

I peek at him through my fingers. "You're evil."

"I've been told."

Silence returns, but it feels softer now.

When we reach my apartment building, I hesitate before opening the door. My hand rests on the handle, but I don't move.

"Conrad..." I say quietly.

He glances at me.

"Do you ever feel like everything around you is collapsing and you're just pretending to be fine?"

The question slips out before I can stop it.

His gaze lingers on me longer than usual. Something unreadable flickers in his eyes.

"Yes." He says finally.

The honesty surprises me.

I nod slowly. "Tonight, I wasn't just drunk. I was scared. About money... about my life... about you."

"Me?" His brow lifts slightly.

"You confuse me." I whisper.

His jaw tightens.

I laugh weakly. "One minute you're kind, the next you're terrifying, and somehow, I still feel safe around you. That makes no sense."

He doesn't respond immediately. The car fills with quiet tension again.

Finally, he says, "Maybe you just stop pretending when you're around me."

My breath catches.

The words settle deep inside my chest, heavy and warm.

I open the door quickly before I can say anything else. My heels touch the pavement, the cool air brushing against my skin.

"Thank you... for coming." I murmur.

"Lock your door." He says simply.

I nod and walk toward my building, feeling his gaze on my back until I disappear inside.

Upstairs, I lean against my apartment door after locking it, my heart still racing.

Tonight changes something. I don't know what yet.

But the uneasiness, the feeling of being watched, returns as I glance out my window.

Across the street, a dark car idles under a broken streetlight.

My breath hitches.

Because this time, it doesn't drive away.