3
He tried.
Ethan forced us to stop.
Millions of dollars worth of car used as a
battering ram. Just like him.
The driver turned to me, a miserable
expression on his face, “Miss Olivia, I…”
I waved him off.
Not his fault. Ethan was a semi–pro racer. No
one in the city could outdrive him.
く
one in the city could outdrive him.
Ethan appeared at the door.
He yanked on the handle.
Locked.
His expression shifted. I saw it in my
peripheral vision.
“Olivia, you have one minute to open this
door.”
“Or I’m breaking the window.”
He started counting down before I could
く
answer.
រ
I knew he meant it. And he’d do worse than
he said.
I rolled down the window before he got to
thirty.
“What?” I frowned.
“This.”
Ethan opened the door, pushed me over, and
slid in.
“You’re burning up.”
L
“You’re burning up.”
He stared at the cooling patch on my
forehead, then touched the back of my neck
with his hand.
“You’re really hot.”
He frowned and ordered the driver, “Take us
to Willow Creek.”
The driver hesitated, glancing at me.
My head was throbbing. Ethan was giving me a headache. I leaned away, “I have a fever. Why are we going to your house?”
<
Why are we going to your house?”
Willow Creek. Fancy gated community.
Ethan’s place.
He glanced at me, “So Dr. Chen can look at you, obviously.”
“You’re always getting sick, and you never take your meds.”
Dr. Chen was Ethan’s personal physician,
turned buddy because they were both equally
crazy.
I wanted to argue, but I felt dizzy.
L
The driver, knowing who Ethan was, started
the car.
And Ethan? He just left his multi–million dollar car on the side of the road.
His birthday party, full of socialites and CEOS, left hanging while he took off.
I wanted to call him a spoiled brat, but my throat was too dry.
I vaguely felt someone sigh above me, mutter
something angrily, then pick me up,
surprisingly gently.
r
Someone gave me pills.
Someone changed my clothes. I instinctively
pushed their hands away, mumbled something
about us being broken up.
But when I opened my eyes, it was Ethan’s housekeeper changing my clothes.
And from outside, Ethan’s voice, grumbling, “Even when she’s delirious, she’s still
modest.”
I wanted to laugh, but the fever pulled me
under.
L
under.
