The Art of Starting Over

Chapter 25 - A Grand Entrance

Sosa's mouth drops open as I hop out of the flashy, red Porsche. I can feel her radiating fury permeate my back. I have to physically bite my tongue to stop myself from saying 'I told you so' to the smug driver inside as I lean through the passenger window.

"What the hell am I going to tell her?" I hiss angrily at Jeremy.

"The truth. You overslept and I dragged you to work," he answers cheekily. I grip the window frame tightly to stop myself from slapping him. This man is unbelievable.

When I woke up this morning, I found over twenty missed calls and texts from Sosa. Realizing I was over an hour late for work, I rushed downstairs and slammed right into Jeremy who was already in full suit and in the middle of an important-sounding phone call. He didn't flinch. He just held me at arm's length and looked me up and down to see if I was okay. Satisfied with his examination, he walked purposefully to the kitchen and put the kettle on. It took every ounce of strength I had not to grab his phone and throw it out the window.

Standing in the doorway, he impeded my exit until he was certain I had drank every drop of my coffee. Then when he finally hung up, he sent me back upstairs for a quick shower and insisted on driving me to work himself. Obviously, this led to a big argument which made me even more late.

"Why are you fretting? It's not like you're going to get fired," he says in his superior Jeremy James Cordina tone.

"You know exactly why I'm fretting! Sosa is going to flip."

"I'll pick you up tonight at seven," he announces, ignoring me completely.

"No, thank you," I object. "I'll take the bus."

He eyes me for a second through his stupid Ray-bans. "You are not taking the bus."

"Yes, I am!" I say my voice rising as I snatch my bag from the back seat.

"Stop being difficult. I'll pick you up and then drop by to say hello to Millie," he says with an air of finality. "I didn't get a chance to talk to her this morning. What time does she leave for work anyway?"

"Six-thirty!" I answer exasperatedly. "That's why I have an alarm at seven! To wake me up because there is nobody else in the house who can do that!"

He rolls his eyes. "You needed to sleep."

A few hours of sleep sure come at a steep price. "So, you just switch off my alarm?"

"You're making a scene, Ally. People are looking," he replies with a cool voice that is not helping my temper.

"That's rich coming from the man in the Armani suit and the flipping red Porsche!"

His jaw twitches and with a snapping motion, he undoes his seat belt and storms out of the car, making sure to slam the door as loudly as he can. He removes his sunglasses as he walks purposefully around and up to me. 

I back into the passenger door, attempting to keep some distance between us but he's right up in my face as he rests one arm over the roof of the car. He snakes his other arm around my waist, pulling me closer, and I stare back at him in confusion as his thumb slips under the hem of my shirt. The feeling of his skin on mine sends strong surges of electricity up and down my spine and I don't like it.

What is he doing?

"What are you doing?" I ask as I try to hold my breath so that he won't hear my brain hyperventilate as he leans in so that his face is less than an inch away from mine.

I can feel his breath on my lips and it tastes sweet. Not too sweet. It reminds me of honey. His body is as close to mine as possible without physically touching and, after having slept across his chest all night, I find myself fighting not to give in to the urge to close the gap between us.