Chapter 8
EIGHT
PAPERWORK OUT OF the way, they left the hospital as a group. After fussing greatly, Adara and Carnell got in a cab destined for his apartment.
Two down.
Who was left? Her, Bastian… and his mother.
Well, this was awkward. Great. Just great.
Bastian kept their fingers twined on the walk through the parking garage. A black BMW nestled discreetly in the corner flashed when they approached.
“Good thing he didn’t bring the Porsche. I’ll sit in the back,” Carolyn said. “Your place is with Bastian.”
As his mom got in, Harper drew her eyes from Bastian’s. Her place? By not correcting Carolyn’s assumption, their dishonesty sucked them farther into the fraud. This was wrong, it was just wrong.
She got in and said nothing as they drove out of the garage.
The trip itself was benign, or it would’ve been if she wasn’t hyperaware of Bastian’s hand so near to her knee when it rested on the manual gearstick. The space in the front was too small for both of them, too small for two people, she was sure of it.
Grown men were supposed to fit in this car. It didn’t matter that she was dwarfed in the seat. No, something about the sight of his hand curled around the gear knob, so firm and strong… Space wasn’t it, oxygen, that was what it lacked. Why was the air so thin? Was it getting hot?
Eventually, he pulled up to a grand black gate that was already opening. When they drove on, the crunch of gravel beneath the tires surprised her. Something wrong with asphalt?
This wasn’t her neighborhood. No, that was far, far away. And felt so much further when they passed some trees and a broad red brick building came into view. The entrance portico, flanked by bold Roman columns, also sported Victorian-esque lamps. Chic.
Nice.
In its day, it would’ve been just as majestic and stylish. These days, buildings like this were converted into apartments or retirement homes.
Bastian stopped parallel to the front door and got out to round the car.
“It was good to meet you, Harper,” Carolyn said as Bastian opened the back door. “I hope we’ll see you again soon.”
Smiling was the polite thing to do. Still, the lie clawed at her throat. “I apologize for the inconvenience tonight.”
“Nonsense. I’m glad Bastian was able to come to your aid.”
Bastian took his mom’s hand to help her out and up the stairs. The pair exchanged words for around a minute before Bastian opened the front door and ushered his mom inside.
What was in his head? He was in no hurry to return, he paced back and forth a few times before running back down to the car. They got to the end of the driveway and back onto the street without exchanging a single word.
“I’m sorry,” she said when she couldn’t take the silence anymore.
His scowl stayed pasted to the windshield. “Forget it.”
If he was pissed off, he should’ve spoken up to correct his mother’s assumption, or told Adara he didn’t care about the mugging when she called.
“You didn’t have to come to the hospital,” Harper said. A big believer in taking responsibility for one’s own actions, she wouldn’t have expected Bastian to be the sort to whine or play the victim. “I’m sorry that Adara—”
“It’s not you. My mom’s on my case about… I’m sorry. You have nothing to apologize for. This wasn’t your fault. I wanted to be there for you tonight. I was there for you once. Why wouldn’t I be there again?”
So he wasn’t pissed off about what happened? Yeah, Harper, stupid. Kind of presumptuous to assume it was all about her when his own life was on his mind.
“I didn’t expect it to become a habit,” she said. “I didn’t have your phone number. Why would I think that my sister—”
“Are you implying I gave my phone number to your engaged sister?”
“No!” she said, having not accused him of anything. “I didn’t say that.”
But he was smiling, not angry. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “You’re safe, that’s what’s important.”
Everyone had their health? Was that the sentiment? Low bar, but they scraped by. Sighing, she put the night’s events out of her mind.
“Do you know the Hounslow Building? It’s on the east—”
“I know Hounslow.”
“Can you drop me there beside—”
“Drop you?” he asked, focus leaving the road for the first time. “Am I your car service?”
“No,” she said, admiring the interior of the vehicle. “I would never be able to afford you. You must have a hell of a boss if this is your company car.”
“We’re going to my place—”
“Please,” she said, deliberately not letting him finish. “This night has already been one of the worst of my life. I don’t need your pity—”
“You’re obsessed with pity,” he said. “I don’t pity you. I said I would look after you and that’s what I’m going to do.”
Obligation wasn’t justification for forcing herself into his life.
“We don’t know each other, Bastian,” she said. “That night was… a glitch.” A dream or fantasy never meant to be repeated. “It was sort of perfect on its own, wasn’t it?”
“We didn’t know each other then, we do now. It’s my place or back to the hospital… Only other choice is your parents.”
They didn’t know each other now. Not know, know.
Except they did. Kinda. A little. She was terrible at this stuff.
They’d sort of been on a date, a fake date, sure, but the sight of it was enough for her family to call him in an emergency.
He’d offered to care for her without hesitation.
Which, now that she thought about it… At the very least, they should be able to use the friends label for their association.
Only… getting this guy in deeper wasn’t fair. She’d be in debt to him forever for what he’d done at Adara’s engagement party. Going back to his place, asking him to play nursemaid, would be too much of a liberty.
“You can let me out here.” The point everyone missed was there was nothing wrong with her. This buddy thing was unnecessary, pretending otherwise was dishonest. She had perpetuated too many lies already that night. “I’ll walk.”
“Yeah right,” he said, gunning the car.
Pushed back in her seat, she searched the streets for a cop. A ticket on top of the inconvenience… Bastian would want rid of her fast.
“You don’t have a very tight grip on your emotions, do you?”
“I am the epitome of control, Sweet, trust me.”
“You can’t kidnap me,” she said. Control or not, she clung to her independence at all times. Freedom. Choice. Independence was what separated her from her sister and many of her father’s employees. “I’m telling you that I want to leave this car.”
“No, you don’t,” he said, unmoved by her vehemence. “You’re saying that because that’s what you should say. We’re alone and you feel there’s no need to carry on the charade.”
Their audience was gone, there was no one left around to perform for.
“Exactly.”
“That doesn’t mean you want to get out of the car.”
“The car’s not the part that worries me,” she admitted.
He glanced in her direction, probably trying to figure her out. “Worries you? You have nothing to fear. Do you think this is about sex? Is that what you’re scared of?”
Whoa, well, that was a leap. Where did sex come from all of a sudden?
“I don’t think you want to have sex with me,” she said and folded her hands on her damaged purse in her lap.
The movement attracted his eye. “What’s in there that’s so important?” he asked, nodding toward her purse. “Why wouldn’t you let him have it?”
“It’s mine.”
“You tried that line in the hospital.”
“It is,” she said, sitting up straighter.
“It has to be more than that.”
“It belongs to me; he had no right to touch it. I don’t care how desperate he was, that doesn’t give him the right to bully me. Bullies do what they do because no one stands up to them. I won’t let them get away with it, not with me.”
“Principle,” Bastian said, bobbing his head. “You stood up to someone who could’ve killed you on principle?”
Maybe he was being sarcastic, but she didn’t retreat.
“Yes,” she said. “What better reason is there to stand up to someone?”
No? Nothing. No response.
They just kept driving. Whatever his opinion, he didn’t share it. Good. They didn’t need to bond or get to know each other. She’d find some way to tell Adara that Bastian was no longer a part of their lives and that would be that… If he ever let her out of the car.
Which he wasn’t going to do. With each new corner and stretch of road, he made it clear he wasn’t stopping.
As she was on the cusp of succumbing to sleep, he pressed a button and slowed the car.
God, her eyes stung. They’d been open too long or her makeup blurred them. She hadn’t even looked in a mirror since before the attack. She was probably a complete mess. Closing them tight, she let her hands hold her head for just a few seconds of peace.
When the motion of the car stopped, she raised her head again. A garage.
Okay.
Bastian shut off the car and they sat in complete silence for more than five seconds.
Harper yawned and sat up straight. So… what now?
Bastian opened his door and got out of the vehicle to unlock an internal side door on the far wall. A low light came from beyond, just a halo around the doorway, no details.
Should she stay there or get out? She sat static when he rounded the hood to reach her side and open the door for her.
Instead of offering a hand to help her out, he crouched, blocking her exit. “Give me your driver’s license.”
So she’d been wrong about the statistics. “Are you mugging me?”
She didn’t follow what was happening.
Was government ID the price of admission?
“If you’re concussed, I’ll need to ask you questions,” Bastian explained. “And I’ll need to know the right answers.”
Logical, but unnecessary. “I’m not concussed.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
“Are you a doctor?”
“No,” he said. “Are you?”
Touché.
Harper exhaled. “Bastian…”
Opening his palm, he wasn’t expecting a hand, he wanted her ID. Grumbling, she shoved her whole purse into his arms.
“I don’t need your bag.”
“My day-planner is in there,” she said. “You can ask questions about friends and family birthdays, events, you can ask about my business meetings, my menstrual cycle. After I get them right, you’ll know I’m not concussed, then you can call me a cab. Can I get out of the car now?”
Acquiescing, he rose. “You’re not leaving,” he said, slamming the car door behind her.