Rushed (Hate at First Flight #1) ✔️

22. Camaro Ride Inquisition

I agreed with myself. That sounded weird. No matter how much I loved and was grateful to my dad, I knew he wasn't my real one. Even though I would always love him, he didn't have the answers to questions I wanted answered.

Those answers were with Flynn Mathers. Why did he not want me? Didn't he want a kid? Didn't he love me? Didn't he want to be with my mother? Did he even love her?

And why the hell was Alex Hunt so stupid that she missed the fact that Flynn Mathers was executive producer? That last was directed at me, of course! Great! Now I was speaking in third person? That, that question was giving me hell as soon as I heard Dylan elaborate about Flynn Mathers being the executive producer.

Dylan, as if he sensed that I wasn't up for any arguments with him, maintained his speed limit at 80. He didn't say anything, leaving me alone to my thoughts. And for that I was grateful to him.

Whoa! Now I was grateful?

"So, excited?" He broke the silence.

And there the gratefulness went, out the window. "What?" I snapped. Excited? Me? About meeting the man who wanted my mother to murder me? The man who left her, and abandoned us because she refused? I was the furthest thing from excitement right now. The furthest!

Dylan looked taken aback by the anger packed into that one word. "Geez, Hunt! I was just asking whether you're excited over meeting Flynn Mathers, not whether you kill cute puppies during your spare time!"

This was far more horrible than that! Okay fine! It wasn't. Nothing is as horrible as killing cute puppies for fun!

I didn't say anything, but continued to look out of the Camaro's tinted windows.

"You know, you're sad company."

"And you don't know when to mind your own goddamn business! Glad we covered that!" I snapped right back as we neared the restaurant. I could see it two roads over.

"Seriously, what is your problem?" He asked. "I've been trying to be nice to you so we could at least survive this shoot!"

"No one asked you to be. I don't have time to keep company with actors." Okay, my anger and worry over meeting my father was talking. Otherwise, I would've just shut my pie hole and not try to bait Dylan.

"And what about Harry?"

"What about him?"

"You keep company with him. In fact, you and him seem to be awfully close as of late."

"He's nice enough," I replied.

"And you like him?"

"Yes, sure," I answered, anything to get him to shut up. We were almost there.

Dylan didn't bother to continue our conversation.

We arrive at Flarince's three minutes later and we both exited the car without a word. I let Dylan walk in front of me, anything to prolong my meeting with him.

"We have a meeting with Mr Mathers," Dylan said to the hostess.

She flashed him a seductive smile before nodding. "He's waiting for you Mr Rush." Okay, maybe he was quite famous. "Follow me," she whispered as she walked past him.

Is it just me or was there an underlying innuendo in her statement?

I frowned slightly before following them.

Dylan walked ahead, taking longer strides. It seemed to me that he wanted to avoid as much as he could before we were stuck together at the same table for dinner.

He had changed before we left the set, now wearing a midnight black Armani suit, his hair styled and Italian leather shoes. He looked criminally handsome and as he walked past, every single women turned around to watch him.

I hurried my steps to catch up to him. Unfortunately for the gawkers, Dylan didn't spare them a glance as he followed the hostess.

"Here you are, Mr Rush," the hostess said as we entered a private room.

She knocked on the door. "Mr Mathers? Your guests have arrived." Then she pushed open the door.

Was I ready for this?

One word. Two letters.

No.

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