Romance in The Mansion
he replied, his gaze fixed on the floor numbers.
"You stared at a printer tech until he apologized for existing."
"He installed the tray incorrectly."
The laugh escaped me before I could catch it—a sharp, bright sound that seemed to startle both of us. For a heartbeat, the air in the elevator changed.
When we reached the lobby, he led me toward a black sedan idling at the curb, its headlights cutting through the downpour. I stopped dead. "Okay, seriously. What is this?"
"A ride," he said.
"You don’t have to do that."