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Genevieve stared at him, frozen in surprise.
Coming up to a spiral curve, he turned his head, focusing temporarily on the road before continuing, “The truth is that I never cared what anyone thought of me until I met you.” He shook his head as if in defeat. “I wanted to attract your attention. When you said you found me hot a few minutes ago—you pegged the reason for the custom-fitted clothes. I started paying more attention to my appearance after you joined the company. New clothes, new glasses, a better haircut, and”—his cheeks flushed—“increased workouts with Quill.”
He sighed again, averting his gaze. “Not at all proud of this, but if I thought having a holiday party at my house and flaunting my wealth would have drawn your initial interest just to get an in with you, I probably would have done it. I’m a commitment-type guy, so the superficialness of those thoughts is counterproductive.” He shrugged. “So was the appearance overhaul in hindsight, but I guess I didn’t know how else to get your attention.”
Genevieve blinked herself out of her stunned trance. “Why didn’t you just ask me out?”
“Would you have said yes?”
“No, but?—”
“There’s your answer.”
“Not because I wouldn’t have wanted to…because my life is a complete and utter jacked-up mess. Believe me,”—she flashed her palm out—“making a mess of your house is minor compared to all the other things I can mess up for you.”
He tilted his head in contemplation. “So there’s a chance, then, at some point in the future, when we get whatever this mess is that you’re dealing with resolved, that you might say yes if I ask you out?”
Genevieve huffed out an amused breath. “I know why you’re a multi-millionaire now… You’re relentless.” She reached down and pulled off her heels as a thought occurred to her.
“I just want to know so I can keep my hopes from getting too high if the answer is?—”
“If you’d listened this whole time, you’d already have your answer, but I’m warning you now, Mr. King, that I’m currently not girlfriend material. I feel guilty as heck for dragging you into this, and I should probably tell you to run the other way, but I need your help.”
He nodded. “So, that’s a potential yes then?”
She blew out another breath, this time more exasperated than amused. “Potential yes, but I’m not making any promises, more for your sake than for mine.”
A slightly arrogant smirk crept up his face. “Potential is all I need to make something happen.”
“Of course.” Smiling, Genevieve rolled her eyes. “You’re insufferable. Possibly the nicest guy I’ve ever met but also just…single-minded.” She studied the triangular base of her heels, wrinkling her nose.
“Actually, I’m not. I just go after what I want. You finally gave me a few hints that you might be interested in me as more than a work associate, and my first priority is to act on it while I can. Though it may appear otherwise, I’m typically focused on a dozen things at once. The most important at the moment is to leave this Roman guy in the dust.” He nodded his head toward her heels. “I agree, by the way. There’s a tracker in those.”
Genevieve cursed. “Stupid. I know better.” She rolled down the window and tossed them out. “Too bad. I loved those shoes.” Taking a deep, recalibrating breath, she glanced behind them down a long straightaway. What on earth? Her Camry was barely visible, just rounding a curve at least a quarter of a mile behind them. She leaned over to look at the Tesla’s speedometer.
“Mr. King, you’re going ninety miles per hour!” She blanched, latching back onto the door handle. “You’re going to kill us before he does.”
“I had you distracted for a while, unfortunately not anymore. Just focus on our conversation. That was helping you.”
She gasped. “You were just asking me out to distract me?”
“Gigi, I’m more than interested. Believe me, I’m not the type of guy to say anything I don’t mean.” Mr. King adjusted in his seat, leaning forward as they entered a new set of curves. “We need to lose him completely, and then it would be nice if you’d tell me what’s going on. I think I’m finally justified in invading your privacy. Not that I mind.” He tightened his lips, narrowing his eyes at the rearview mirror. “What’s this guy’s goal?”
“His goal?”
“Yes.” Mr. King whipped them around another curve while she screeched. “Does he want you in one piece, or is he a total psycho?”
“One piece. He’d be in deep if one hair on my head is harmed.”
“Good. That’s in our favor. What does he want?”
Genevieve spaced out as they sped around a downhill U-shaped curve, gripping the door handle like a lifeline in case they went flying into the trees.
“Relax. I’m a good driver.”
“A good driver?” she squeaked. “This is like race car driving, not regular everyday driving.”
“Precisely. I’ve gone to the track with Quill many times. We practice with the world’s best NASCAR drivers for fun. We’re not as fast as them, but it’s one of our hobbies. Gigi,”—he reached across the divide and covered her hand, sending her heart into a pattery mess—“focus on me. I can tell talking to me relaxes you, especially when you’re engrossed in our conversation. Can’t tell you how fucking good that makes me feel.”
