CHRISTOPHER
Hans gets behind the wheel, and we pull out of the airport and onto the main road. “There’s a bit of traffic tonight, I’m afraid, sir,” Hans says. “Bumper to bumper when I was driving in.”
“That’s okay.” I smile as I hold Hayden’s hand firmly in my lap. “Can’t be helped.”
Hayden’s gaze is fixed firmly out the window. This is the quietest I’ve ever seen her, and I have no idea what’s going through her head.
I’m unsure if she’s shocked or furious . . . I’m hoping for shocked but beginning to expect furious.
I should have told her earlier, but I just . . . didn’t know how.
Hans sighs as the traffic comes to a complete standstill. “Looks like there has been an accident now to top it off.” I look up to see lights flashing from a traffic-control van.
I exhale heavily. Great. This is just what I need.
My phone lights up.
Eddie
Shit, now is not the time. I can’t even pretend to be in a good mood. He’s calling to check we landed okay. I’ll call him back tomorrow.
I turn my phone on silent.
“Would you like a glass of wine or champagne?” I ask Hayden as I open the minibar fridge.
Her eyes flick over to me, and I feel the venom behind them.
Hmm . . . I’ve never seen that look before . . . which is a good thing, because I don’t fucking like it.
“No, thank you,” she replies curtly.
I roll my lips. Well, I would. I pour myself a glass of champagne, and unable to help myself, I hold my glass up in a sarcastic cheers sign. “I’ll drink alone, then.”
Her eyes hold mine, and silent animosity swims between us.
Would she rather I be fucking broke?
I take a large gulp of my champagne. It’s smooth, cold, and delicious.
Unlike her in this moment.
The longer we sit in the back of the limo, the more I feel Hayden’s anger festering like a volcano that’s ready to blow.
The more I feel it, the more pissed I get.
Seriously?
She would actually rather I clean fucking toilets for a living?
That’s not loving someone . . . that’s enabling . . . to what, I don’t know, but I’m sure there’s some form of emotional abuse in there somewhere.
The more I think about this, the more I know I’m right. If I was broke and I told her I had money, then I would understand.
But this?
I will not be judged for having money . . . my parents have worked fucking hard to build the Miles empire. What . . . does she think she’s above it? I clench my jaw as I watch her and swish the champagne around my mouth as I silently fume.
How dare she?
I don’t judge her for fist-fucking cows for a living. And I could. Trust me, I could.
I drain my glass and then immediately pour myself another one without even asking her if she wants one. I put the bottle back into the fridge.
That’s enough.
The night is already spiraling out of control. Alcohol is only going to pour kerosene on the fire.
The car has been at a standstill for over forty minutes now. What the hell is going on up there?
I glance at my watch. Fuck it. This night is a disaster. I made a booking at my favorite restaurant, thinking tonight was going to be epically romantic.
Guess not.
I sip my wine as I stare at her staring out the window . . . my anger gently simmering on the stove.
“Are you cold?” I ask her.
“Nope.”
“What’s with the attitude?” I mutter under my breath.
She throws me a dirty look. Her eyes dart to Hans as if to remind me that he’s here.
Really?
I stare at her as I hear my heartbeat in my ears.
I’ve done nothing wrong. If she didn’t care that I had no money . . . why would she care that I do? Why has she gotten pissed off without so much as a discussion?
I treat her like a queen, and for her to sit beside me for ten fucking hours without one word is infuriating.
Hans’s eyes meet with mine in the rearview mirror. “I’m sorry for the delay, Mr. Miles. I should have checked the radar before I came this route.”
I exhale, annoyed. Yes, you should have. “That’s fine, Hans.”
Hayden tsks beside me, and my eyes sweep across to her. I raise my eyebrow in question.
She raises her eyebrow right back.
Don’t fucking piss me off.
I snap my eyes away. Don’t tell me our first-ever fight is going to be in the back of my limo while stuck in traffic.
I. Am. Not. In. The. Mood.
One and a half silent hours later
The car pulls into my building, and Hans fusses around nervously. Even he can tell she’s pissed. Who am I kidding? The space station on Mars can tell she’s pissed.
“I’m so sorry about the delay, Hayden,” Hans stammers.
Hayden smiles calmly. “Please, don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault.”
“Thank you for understanding.”
She gives him a huge smile as she opens her door before the doormen get a chance to. They all come running to help her out of the car.
Her being nice to Hans infuriates me even more. So she’s not pissed in general.
Just with me.
I climb out of the car behind her. “Mr. Miles,” they all say excitedly. “Welcome home, sir.”
“It’s good to be here,” I reply. They go to take our bags, and I stop them. “I’ve got it. Thank you.”
We walk into the foyer. “Good evening, Mr. Miles.” The staff all smile. “Welcome home, sir.”
“It’s great to be here.” I smile back. It is genuinely good to be back.
“This way.” I gesture to the elevator, and we get in and turn to face the front. I push the button to the penthouse.
Hayden’s eyes flick over to me. “You live here?” she says, unimpressed.
“We live here.” I glare at her.
She fakes a smile, and I see red.
Game on.
The doors open to my foyer, and I step out and scan my fingerprint. The double doors unlock, and we are met with a floor-to-ceiling magical view over New York, the city lights twinkling as far as the eye can see.
Hayden stops on the spot, shocked to silence.
How you hating that money thing now?
I walk in and put the bags down, and she tentatively follows as she looks around.
I try to imagine what it must be like to see it for the first time. It’s industrial trendy, with the best of everything over two floors.
She walks over to the window and peers down at the road way below. “How high are we?”
“Sixty floors.”