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I gnaw my bottom lip as I stare down at my skirt, running my palms over it.
“Make your mind up. Your walk back to the house is getting longer.” He sighs, sounding bored as the car pulls onto the road.
His eyes slide to mine, and I swear the cold bastard’s lips curl up as I pull in a shaky breath that echoes around the interior.
I settle into the seat, clasping my hands in my lap to hide their trembling.
“I prefer not to talk on car journeys, don’t you?” I turn toward the window and stare out.
“Something we can both agree on,” he murmurs.
For the rest of the drive, the car is silent except for the tapping of the keys on his laptop. Each one is like a nail being hammered into my skin, making me wince.
But I don’t have a passport.
So Jet can be as much of a jerk as he likes because I’m not going anywhere.
“The car will be here when you’re done.”
Jet’s words pull me to my senses, and I turn away from the window for the first time since we left Rochwell house.
“Excuse me?”
“The car will be here when you’re done,” he repeats, closing his laptop.
“I heard you the first time.”
“Then why are you still here?”
His blue eyes connect with mine as my door is opened by his driver.
I lean closer to him so I can look out of his window and up at the building we’ve pulled up in front of. I can feel the heat of his disapproving eyes on my face as I realize where we are.
“The passport office?” I swallow around the thick lump in my throat.
“They’re expecting you for your interview.”
“Interview?” I reach for my blouse and undo the top button. It’s stifling with the door open and London’s city air flowinginto the car.
“It starts in five minutes.”
I gather up my purse when he doesn’t say anything else. Maybe I can run and he won’t notice. Or I can tell him the passport printer ran out of ink.
I take a deep breath and climb out, thanking the driver as I walk toward the building, staring up at it.
I glance back at the car. Jet’s watching me with dark eyes. He flicks his fingers at me in a shooing motion.Asshole. His eyes narrow like he heard me, and I look away.
At least this way, I can escape being confined in a vehicle with him. I continue walking toward the building. My legs threaten to buckle.
I take a deep breath and stride through the doors.
Thirty minutes later, I join him with my shiny new passport burning a hole inside my purse.
Jet barely glances at me as I thank his driver for opening the door and slide inside.
“Did you get it?”
“Yes.”
