Chapter 5 Closer Than Expected

I glanced around, searching for an excuse, but the street was quiet, and the weight of his gaze made it impossible to think clearly. “I was just heading home. The subway’s fine—”

“Christa,” Alan interrupted, his voice softer this time, yet with an edge that promised no compromise. “We don’t have all night.”

Suppressing a sigh, I slid into the car, the scent of leather and Alan’s cologne—a mix of sandalwood and something darker, more intoxicating—wrapping around me as the door closed behind me.

The space between us was almost nonexistent, the interior of the car designed for intimacy rather than distance. Alan didn’t say anything at first, simply watching me as the car pulled smoothly away from the curb.

He sat beside me, one arm resting on the console. The low lighting from the dashboard cast sharp shadows across his features, accentuating the hard lines of his jaw.

“Thank you,” I said reluctantly.

He leaned back, studying me with a look that made my skin tingle. “No need to thank me. I take care of what’s mine.”

The words sent a jolt through me. I turned to face him, my pulse spiking. “I’m not—”

“Relax,” he cut in, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “You’re part of my team now, aren’t you? That makes you my responsibility.”

Feeling like I was being played, I clenched my fists.

“Oh, really?” I shot back, unable to keep the bite from my voice. “I didn’t think someone like Mr. Royce enjoyed playing chauffeur.”

“Call me Alan.”

His gaze locked onto me.

It was a look of such intense focus that, for some reason, it stole the words from my lips, leaving me unable to summon even a token protest.

Before I could muster a retort, his eyes drifted downward, pausing at my lap. His brow furrowed slightly.

“You look cold,” he said.

Before I could respond, he reached into the seat pocket beside him and pulled out a charcoal-gray cashmere blazer. Without a word, he leaned closer, draping it over my shoulders. The space between us disappeared in an instant, and I could feel the faint warmth radiating from him.

His proximity sent an unbidden heat to my cheeks, but I refused to let it show.

“I’m fine,” I said, pushing the blazer away, but my fingers brushed against the soft fabric, and I felt its warmth.

He stopped my movement, and—whether by accident or design—I felt his finger brush against mine.

The electric shock of the contact shot straight through me.

I instinctively tried to pull my hand back, but his grip tightened around it instead, not allowing me to move.

Startled, I looked up at him, only to find his gaze locked on mine, pupils dark and wide,, the intensity of his stare almost suffocating.

For a moment, time seemed to stretch, the frantic rhythm of my heart drowning out everything else. His thumb brushed over my knuckles, slowly, caressingly—sending a ripple of electricity through my chest.

I couldn’t look away.

For some reason, there was something in his gaze that frightened me.

His grip on my hand, made it feel as though he owned that moment—owned me.

I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but the words stuck in my throat.

As if sensing my nervousness, he broke the silence.

“Be good,” he said, his voice soft but firm. He finally let go of my hand, but his touch still lingered, “It’s not worth it to get sick, and it’s still quite cold at night.”

The blazer settled over my shoulder with a weight that felt heavier than it should.

I clenched my jaw, deciding it wasn’t worth the argument. Instead, I turned to the window, watching the city lights blur past as the car glided smoothly through the streets.

The ride continued in charged silence, every glance he sent my way making it harder to breathe.

“You’re very quiet,” Alan remarked, his voice low, almost teasing. “Planning your next move?”

“Just wondering why someone like you has the time to worry about someone like me,” I replied, meeting his gaze head-on.

“Someone like me?”

I held his stare, refusing to back down. “You’re not exactly the type to do favors without expecting something in return.”

He chuckled, almost a hum, “Maybe I’m full of surprises.”

“Or ulterior motives,” I muttered under my breath, though I knew he’d hear it.

Alan leaned back, his posture deceptively relaxed, though the intensity in his eyes hadn’t waned. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

The ambiguity in his words only added to my unease. I turned my attention back to the city outside, but then his voice cut through the quiet again.

“You’ve been working late.”

The shift in his tone caught me off guard. It wasn’t a question; it was a statement.

“I have deadlines,” I replied curtly.

“And no one to remind you to eat? To rest?” He reached over to the cupholder and picked up a sleek, black thermos. Unscrewing the cap, he poured a stream of amber liquid into a crystal tumbler—clearly not the average to-go coffee cup.

He handed it to me without ceremony. “Drink it.”

I stared at the glass in his hand, unsure whether to be annoyed by his audacity or…touched.

“Is this part of the ‘concerned chauffeur’ act?” I asked, taking the tumbler despite myself.

His smirk returned, a hint of mischief glinting in his eyes. “Consider it damage control. You collapsing from exhaustion wouldn’t exactly benefit either of us.”

Tentatively, I took a sip. The delicate floral notes of jasmine and honey spread across my tongue, with the warmth spreading down to my core. My grip tightened on the glass, my thoughts tangling as I tried to decipher the man sitting next to me.

Alan Royce was a contradiction—imposing yet thoughtful, calculating yet…caring? No, that couldn’t be it.

I couldn’t figure this man out.

The car glided silently through the dark streets, the soft hum of the engine the only sound between us. My mind, though, was anything but quiet. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

A flash of headlights in the rearview mirror caught my attention. I glanced back, trying to be subtle. The same black sedan from before. It was there, lurking just behind us.

I shifted in my seat, pretending to adjust my position, but I couldn’t stop my eyes from flicking back at the mirror. The sedan hadn’t changed its distance, almost as if it were chasing something. Or someone.

I felt a knot tighten in my stomach.

“Is something wrong?” Alan’s voice broke through the silence, low and almost casual, but something about his tone told me he was already aware.

I hesitated, but the truth was too obvious to ignore. “That car,” I said slowly, my voice betraying the slight unease I felt. “It’s been behind us for a while. Do you think it’s… following us?”

Alan didn’t even glance at the rearview mirror. His eyes remained fixed on the road ahead, but his gaze had clearly turned cold.

“It’s not a coincidence,” he said, his voice as calm as ever, but with an edge.

I frowned. “Shouldn’t we—”

“No,” he said, eyes sharpening. “Don’t engage. Let’s see if they make a move.”

I could feel my pulse quicken. The air in the car felt thicker, the quiet more oppressive. The thought of someone—or something—just behind us, made me uneasy.

The sedan continued to tail us, and for a moment, I thought Alan had missed it. But then he leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing, and gave a subtle nod to the driver. Without any further instructions, the driver’s hands moved with practiced precision, making a sharp turn at the next intersection.

I blinked. “What—”

Alan’s lips quirked up at the corner in a small, almost imperceptible smile. “You’re not the only one who knows how to be discreet.”