Chapter 45 Not in this lifetime
"Were you scared, Kaden?" he murmurs, his breath warm and smelling of high-end liquor. "Worried I’d finally abandoned you?"
I hold his gaze, steadying myself on sheer stubbornness alone. “Relieved,” I fire back without hesitation. “I was relieved to finally be rid of you.”
His tongue clicks softly against the roof of his mouth. A quiet, almost amused sound, giving a slow, mocking shake of his head. "Not in this lifetime."
Something twists low in my stomach but I ignore it. Force my focus elsewhere. The air between us is vibrating, thick with the four days of silence he just shattered. I narrow my eyes, my voice dropping. "You weren't on a work trip, were you?"
He watches my face, his expression a volatile mix of amusement and something darker. Something that looks like he’s actually glad I was paying enough attention to notice. He doesn't answer. He just reaches up and lightly, almost patronizingly, taps my cheek with the back of his hand.
Then, he steps back. The loss of his heat is sudden and jarring. He turns and heads for the passenger side, pulling the door open with a confidence that says he’s already decided how the rest of my night is going to go. He slides into the seat, leaving me standing alone in the dark parking lot with my heart hammering a rhythm I don't recognize.
I stall for a few beats, my eyes boring a hole through the passenger-side window. I fist a hand in my hair, giving my head a sharp, frustrated shake. It’s not even Bastian I’m mad at, not entirely. It’s the fact that I’m not nearly as pissed off as a sane person should be. I should probably be calling him a cab and driving away, instead, I exhale sharply and force myself to move, circling around the car. I pause at the back door just long enough to toss my backpack onto the seat, then slide into the driver’s side.
The door shuts and silence settles in. I don’t look at him. Don’t acknowledge him. Don’t even give him the satisfaction of a glance I just start the car and pull out, my grip on the wheel tight enough to make my knuckles ache. I need to be off this lot. He might be fine with being a public spectacle, but I actually value my reputation.
I can feel him watching me. It’s a heavy, silent pressure that makes the air feel thick. We hit the main road, the streetlights flickering over the dashboard in rhythmic pulses, before he finally breaks the silence.
"You never asked for my address," he says, his voice low and raspy. "Should I assume you already know the way, or are you just planning to drive until we hit the coast?"
"You're projecting," I counter, "You're assuming everyone is a neurotic stalker just because you are." I take a breath, the frustration bubbling up again. "And you can't keep doing this."
"Doing what?"
"You know what!" I snap, finally cutting a sharp look his way. He doesn't defend himself. He just leans his head back against the seat and lets out a long, heavy exhale. "Roll a window down. It’s fucking claustrophobic in here."
I throw him a look, unimpressed and more than a little offended. "Excuse me? Are you serious right now?"
Instead of answering, he shifts in his seat, his gaze narrowing as he studies my profile. "Are you into girls?"
I blink, the sudden pivot in the conversation nearly making me miss a turn. "What?" That completely throws me.
"It’s been fucking with my head," he continues, sounding genuinely bothered, which is a terrifying thought. I stare at him, trying to figure out if he’s serious. He is. And then, before I can even process that, he doubles down. "And while we're on the subject... what exactly is the deal between you and your roommate? You two seem maddeningly close."
I wish to God I were somewhere I could just slam on the brakes and have it out with him right here. I turn my head to him, my eyes wide with a mix of shock and rising fury. "How the hell do you know about her?"
Keeping track of me at the distillery is one thing...he's the boss. Orphic? Fine, he owns the place. Even showing up at the retirement home was a massive red flag I chose to ignore for the sake of my own sanity. But my personal life? My best friend?
"Who gave you the right to poke around in my private life?" I hiss, my voice dropping into dangerous territory.
He doesn't even flinch. He just turns his head slightly, watching me like I’ve said something mildly interesting instead of something that should’ve set him off. “It’s not my fault,” he says calmly, "that your roommate documents her entire existence online. It was hardly a deep-state investigation."
He tilts his head, almost thoughtful. “The beach shoot was good,” he adds, casual as hell. “Nice lighting. Very intimate framing.”
Then, with the faintest hint of something darker slipping through, “I’m fairly certain a respectable percentage of those views are mine.”
I open my mouth to rip into him, to tell him he’s a creep, but he just watches me for a second, something almost amused flickering in his eyes. “What?” he says, voice low, almost idle. “You think I had someone pull your entire life apart the second we met? Compile a neat little file so nothing about you could ever catch me off guard?”
There’s something about the way he says it....Not defensive. Not quite joking either. And it sets something off in my head. Loud warning bells I can’t quite place. Because I can’t tell if he’s mocking the idea, or confirming it in a way that’s somehow worse. My thoughts stall for half a second, trying to catch up, to decide which version of this is more fucked up.
And before I can land on either, he lifts a hand, lazily gesturing toward the road ahead, "Keep going straight," he says. "Then take the second right after the bridge."
I lock my jaw so tight my teeth ache. For a second, I consider ignoring him completely and driving past it. But my hands still move on instinct, following the road even as irritation burns hot under my skin. Beside me, Bastian finally reaches for the handle and manually cranks the window down. The cool night air rushes in, smelling of exhaust and whipping my hair into my eyes.
“Is this some kind of setup?" I ask, my voice sounding tight, vibrating with a suspicion I can’t quite quench. "You getting me to drive you to some middle-of-nowhere tomb so you can, what? Drag me inside and finally start carving your name into my skin?"