32. ELLY
32
ELLY
I don’t know what propelled me here first thing in the morning. Maybe it was the aftereffects of Mrs Lansen’s cruelty, or the upset that Jack wouldn’t own his feelings in front of her.
Either way, when I woke up and saw Jack’s black card sitting on my dresser, I knew I was going to use it. And now I’m sitting in the driver’s seat of an orange Lamborghini. It’s beautiful. The most amazing car I’ve ever been inside. I might be a little in love.
But apparently, you can’t swan into the showroom and buy a Lamborghini off the shop floor like you’re picking up groceries. Especially if your name isn’t on the card you try to pay for it with. Who knew?
It’s annoying because Jack deserved to wake up to me having spent hundreds of thousands on a flashy car that he would never buy. He’s all class and subdued colours and sophistication. A sleek Bentley with soft leather and walnut interiors.
Not an orange Lamborghini. Because Who the fuck buys an orange car?
I snort at the memory of the night he picked me up in the rain, the two of us soaked by the water sprayed up by that orange car. I clasp my hands around the steering wheel, imagining driving this bad boy around town with the roof down, throwing my middle finger up to all the well-dressed arseholes in West London, of which Jack is one.
I’d race through a puddle if he was standing at the side of the road, and soak him to the bone. I’d fucking delight in it.
I try my best to look calm and collected, as if checking out expensive cars is something I do every day, rather than an impulsive petty action I’ve taken to piss off my boyfriend.
Is he my boyfriend?
Movement by the door snares my attention. Jack’s here, striding towards me with an expression on his face like he wants to strangle me. My breath catches in my throat and my stomach flips— good flips —making me wonder if my fight-or-flight response is messed up.
Anyone else would be running from a man who looked like that . But here I am, buzzing with excited anticipation. He came.
I focus on the car salesman, smiling at him as though he’s the most interesting man in the room, despite the fact my heart is hammering because of the furious man striding towards me.
“What the hell, Elly? A Lamborghini?” Jack says when he reaches me.
The salesman takes one look at Jack and scurries away to hide in the corner. Coward .
I try not to be affected by Jack’s frustration. He’s the one who messed up, not me. This—me being here, sitting in this car—is totally justified.
Isn’t it?
“I like it.” I flick my curls off one shoulder in an affected attempt at nonchalance. “It’s very me, don’t you think? Much better than that Bentley you’re driving around in.”
Jack mutters under his breath, then opens the driver’s door. “Get out.”
I stare at him. The air crackles. I say nothing, but my knuckles tighten on the steering wheel. I’m not following his orders. Not today.
When he realises I’m not going to move, he leans in and says, “Are we going to talk about last night, or are you just going to sit there, pretending you didn’t try to spend nearly a million quid on my credit card? It’s extremely passive-aggressive and potentially illegal.”
“Arrest me then.” I hold out both wrists and give him puppy-dog eyes.
His expression melts for a second, exposing a touch of amusement, but then he catches himself, forcing the anger to hold. “You’re being very immature.”
I laugh, one shrill burst that sounds unhinged. “Immature? I’m not the one who’s too scared to tell his mummy how he feels.”
He drags a hand through his hair, shifting it off his forehead. “Fuck’s sake.” It’s a low curse, more exhalation than speech. “It’s none of her business how I feel about you.”
How does he feel about me? I keep gripping the steering wheel and refuse to look at him. I’m angry… I am. But coming here, trying to buy the car… it is immature. But I want his attention more than anything else. I want him to care…
The words spill from my mouth, almost without permission. “So you don’t care what your mum thinks of me? About the stuff she said?”
Damn it. I was doing so well at playing the role of the scorned woman who doesn’t give a rat’s arse about all that nonsense, and now I’ve given it all away.
He puts a hand on the car door and leans towards me. “Am I going to have to get this tattooed on my forehead? No, I don’t give a shit what my mother thinks, and I should never have let her speak to you that way. I’m deeply sorry about that. I swear I’ll never let anyone say a bad thing about you, ever again. Now, get out of the car.”
The words are what I wanted to hear, but the tone is wrong. Harsh. Exasperated.
“Nope.”
“Nope?” He holds my gaze for a few seconds, like he’s waiting for me to say more, but when I don’t, he huffs. “You locked me out my fucking house. And now this?” He gestures to the showroom, the car.
“I was annoyed.”
“Well, so am I.” He storms towards the desk. He’s probably going to get me kicked out. Maybe even arrested. I sit back, cross my arms over my chest, watching him, waiting for someone to come and drag me out of here by the hair.
I don’t know how long I wait… long enough to get so bored that I end up scrolling on my phone. I only look up when I sense Jack coming back. He doesn’t look angry anymore. He looks pleased with himself. As he gets closer, he throws something at me.
I drop my phone to my lap and catch the missile.
Keys .
I’m speechless. For a moment I stare at them, then up at him, but he’s not where he was a second ago. He’s opening the passenger door and getting in beside me.
“You do have a license, right?” he asks as he slams the door. “I hope you’re a good driver because driving a car with an engine like this is not the same as a regular vehicle. It’ll shoot off like a rocket. You’ll probably need lessons to learn how to handle it properly.”
My jaw hangs slack. “What?”
Jack sits back, that devilish smile back on his face. “She’s yours.” He tips his chin to indicate the car.
My stomach sinks to my tailbone. What the actual fuck? I rotate in my seat, so I’m facing him. “You bought it?”
He smirks. “You looked so good in it.”
My heart begins to thump a panicked beat, and the sensation swells until it feels like my heart is the only organ in my body. No way. “You bought the car because I look good in it ?”
“Yup.”
I sit back, hands raised, but not touching the wheel. “No. Oh, no,” I bleat.
Jack scratches the scruff on his jaw. So casual. “You’d filled in most of the paperwork anyway. If you’d told me before, we could have planned this. Customised it. Personalised this beast.” He taps the dashboard. “We could have put one on order.” He flashes me that cheeky smirk again, but I’m so stunned, that it doesn’t affect me as it normally would. “Very amateur to buy whatever’s on the shop floor.”
Amateur .
“You’re kidding me.” My fingers are tingling. “You bought this?”
“You wanted it, didn't you?”
My brain is misfiring, and everything I thought I wanted crumbles. I didn’t really want this car at all. I wanted to piss Jack off. I wanted him to say he loved me. How I could have wanted both those things, and expected one stupid action to achieve them simultaneously, I have no idea. I wasn’t thinking straight. But one thing is clear: I never expected him to actually buy the fucking car.
I feel faint. “Oh, no. No way. You have to return it. Take it back.”
Jack starts to laugh, his sexy smile exposing dazzling white teeth.
“What?” I gasp. “Why are you laughing? Is this a joke? Are you joking? Please say you’re joking.”
“It’s not a joke.” He points to where the staff are opening the glass doors so I can drive the car out of the showroom. “Let’s get out of here.”
“No. No way. I could buy a flat with this car. A house. I could move to the countryside and retire for the rest of my life. It’s insane to spend this much on a vehicle. Insane . I can’t let you do this.”
He chortles. “You can’t let me do this ? You’re the reason I’m here.” He slaps the dashboard. “Let’s go.”
Oh, my God, what have I done? I’m an idiot. “Shit. No. No, no…” I open the door and stumble backwards out of the car.
I’m freaking out. My hands are flapping like I can shake out the adrenaline. This is crazy.
Jack gets out of the car, looking wary now rather than amused. He approaches me with his arms outstretched, as though I’m a cornered animal liable to run. “Give me the keys. I’ll drive.” His voice rings with a decisive authority, but I’m too spun out to appreciate it.
“No, no, no…”
All eyes are on us. We’re a spectacle, and being watched makes my panic rise further. Jack, on the other hand, looks totally calm. He holds eye contact, grounding me, and my heart rate slows. He takes a cautious step closer and clasps my hands in his, stilling their motion. His touch is so warm. Safe . “Money aside, do you like the car?” he whispers.
I screw my eyes shut, feeling him tease the keys from my grip. I let him take them.
“El, do you like the car?” he repeats.
How does he make the question sound both seductive and calming? My resistance disintegrates. I suck in a breath, and on the exhale admit, “Yes. I love the car.”
“Then it's yours. I want to give you everything, El.” He pulls me into his embrace, holding me tight against him. I’m in a cloud of his scent, his body heat, the soft fabric of his suit, and the tension slides off me. But, wait…
“You smell different,” I state.
“It’s Nico’s suit,” he says, his voice rumbling against me.
“Oh.” That’s my fault . “Sorry.”
He squeezes me tighter, acknowledging my apology, and whispers into my hair, “I'm sorry too. Let me drive you home.”
I let him guide me back to the car, and he opens the passenger door to help me inside. He leans across me to buckle me in as I sit in a daze, overwhelmed by his sudden proximity. One night apart, and I missed him so, so much.
I want to pull him against me, kiss him, maybe even force his head between my legs, but he’s gone again before I’ve collected my thoughts.
He gets into the driver’s seat and starts the engine, which revs like nothing I’ve ever heard. I slam my hands over my ears. “Shit.”
Jack side-eyes me, breaking out into another one of those breathtaking smiles. And then he drives the ridiculous orange Lamborghini off the forecourt.
“I fucking hate orange,” he mutters, glancing across at me. “But I love you.”