“Yes.”
“At least you’re honest.”
“It saves time.”
He stepped closer, just enough for me to catch his scent. Cedar. Smoke. Clean white shirt. Something warm underneath it all that felt less like cologne and more like danger dressed for dinner.
“I’m not getting into a car with a stranger,” I said.
He nodded. “That’s fair.”
Then he reached into his pocket and handed me a card.
It had no company name. No title. Just a number in black type.
“If you change your mind, text me. If you don’t, I’ll still make sure you get home safe.”
I stared at the card. “How?”
He glanced past me toward the dark street. “Because I don’t like the idea of you walking alone at this hour.”
“You say that like you have a vote.”
His eyes held mine. “I do.”
The arrogance should have been unbearable.
For some reason, it was magnetic instead.
I took the train home. I told myself I had won some tiny battle.
Then I got off at my stop and found one of his suited men standing fifty feet away pretending to look at his phone.
I turned around and saw another at the corner.
They did not approach me. They did not speak.
They simply watched until I made it into my building.
The next morning there were white peonies outside my door with a note.
You made it home. I slept better because of that.
Nicholas
That should have frightened me.
Maybe some part of it did.
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