Apparently, taking me with him on a plane was too risky. That explains how I ended up on an 18-hour long road trip with Mr. Miller. And not just him, we were also accompanied by his sweet, little driver Thomas, who was not so sweet and not so little.
The car ride started just fifteen minutes ago but I was already sick of it. Travelling and I didn’t go together well, which has partially to do with my bad back and partially with the fact that I always end up vomiting my insides out.
Beside me, Miller was sitting like a log, his eyes plastered on his mobile screen. I wanted to get cozy on the seat but didn't want to look uncultured so I picked up a magazine and began reading it.
I was halfway through the page when Sean spoke. "Have you ever heard the name Machiavelli? From your father?" He asked.
"No." I replied in a confused voice. "What about it?"
"Machiavelli's are an Italian Mafia family." He said.
"Like yours?" I said and he narrowed his eyes at me.
"Worse. They don't try to hide behind a white collar like us." He said.
"Why are we talking about them?" I asked.
"Because the guy that was sent to follow us, he got the orders from them." He said and a slight shiver ran down my spine.
"Why?" I asked.
"I know just as much as you. Why would they be after Elijah or you when he had cut the ties with mafia years ago?" He stated.
"And you expect to find the answer to this question in Florida?" I asked.
"Yes. It's not about protecting you now. He could've sent you anywhere but he sent you to me. There must be a reason behind all this." He said.
"He better have a valid reason for sending me to a criminal." I said and his jaw clenched.
"Everyone is a criminal. My crimes are just more pronounced according to law." He said.
“Is that what helps you sleep at night?” I raised my eyebrows.
“I sleep perfectly fine.” He replied.
“Oh so your conscience is already dead.” I commented and I could practically feel the anger radiating off him.
“If you weren’t Elijah’s daughter….”
“You would have murdered me?” I asked. “Because that’s what you do best.”
My words were stopped by his sudden motion. He held me by my arm and pulled me forwards so I was digging into him and his face was a few inches away from me.
I winced as his fingers dug into the skin of my arm. “You are hurting me.” I said, trying my best to not be bamboozled by the lack of distance between us.
“I can do much worse.” He said, staring deep into my eyes. “As you said, I do not have any conscience.”
I had always expected bad people to be ugly but he proved me wrong. He was too beautiful to be so evil and satanic. And he smelled so good from close, not like blood or gore. His eyes were brown but they had some gold specks in them floating around. And his face was chiseled like freshly carved from granite. Not at all like the villains in children's story books.
Wait, why am I admiring this man?
I pulled away from him and slid as far in the seat as possible. Not wanting to engage in any more conversation with him, I turned around to face the window and looked out of it.
The weather was pleasant today, not too cold, not too hot. I lowered the glass of the windows and let the fresh air hit my face. I had missed the feeling of wind slapping my face because in the Miller mansion, the closest thing to nature was a walk in the lawn, while being followed by a dozen of security guards.
And that was not refreshing at all.
I rested my head against the seat and closed my eyes for a brief moment. The next thing I remember, someone was waking me up. I opened my eyes and found the familiar face of Sean Miller staring at me. The door to my side of the car was opened and he was standing outisde, waiting for me to wake up.
“Are we there yet?” I asked.
“It’s been just two hours since we left the house.” He replied. “Come on, let’s have lunch.”
As my eyes adjusted to the light, I realized we had stopped in front of a cafe. I stretched my arms groggily and walked out of the car, with my whole body aching due to sleeping in such an uncomfortable position.
“Won’t Thomas go with us?” I asked, staring at the giant.
“He keeps a stack with himself.” Mr. Miller replied.
“Of what? Human blood?” I asked and I swear I heard what sounded like a chuckle but I wasn't sure as I couldn’t see him clearly.
“You amuse me, Miss. Woods.” I heard him say.
“And you annoy me, Mr. Miller.” I rolled my eyes.
“I think we should at least be on a first name basis now.” He pointed out as we walked inside a cafe. It was a cozy little place and most of it was empty, except a family of 4 and a bunch of highschoolers.
“Yeah, we are close now. You have seen me in a towel and I have seen you kill someone.” I said snarkily and he exhaled loudly behind me.
I know I push my limits sometimes but I couldn't help it. Seeing him just brings out the worst in me.
We took a seat in a corner booth and a cute guy came to take our order. He looked about my age and was very pleasing to the eyes. He has a cute, boyish face and light brown hair gently falling on his forehead.
“One Chicken burrito with sweet potato fries.” Sean placed his order.
“And for you, Miss?” He smiled at me charmingly.
“Um…” I stared at the menu card. “What would you recommend?”
“Do you want something spicy or mild?” He asked.
“Um… Surprise me.” I replied with a sheepish grin.
Once he left, I looked back at Mr. Miller whose eyes were plastered on the retreating back of that waiter. “Wait here.” He said and walked over to the counter. There, he said something to the waiter, who looked like he just pissed his pants. With a snobbish look on his face, Sean walked back to the table and propped down.
“What did you say to him?” I asked.
“Nothing. I was just requesting him to add a beer.” He said but for some reason, I didn’t trust him.
When the waiter arrived with the food, he didn’t dare to look at me, let alone flirt. He just simply placed my bruschetta sandwich in front of me and left.
“You need therapy.” I said accusingly. “You are controlling.”
“Its’ my profession’s demand.” He said.
“And manipulative.” I added.
“That too.” He replied.
“And abusive.” I commented.
“When did I abuse you, Penelope?” He said, stressing over my name that rolled off his tongue like butter.
“You are doing it right now. Emotional abuse.” I said, taking a big bite of my sandwich.
“Then be grateful it's just emotional.” He said and I groaned.
“I hate you.” I said in a frustrated voice.
“The feeling is mutual.” He replied and focused his attention on his food.
We didn’t talk for the rest of the lunch. After lunch was over, I went to the bathroom to freshen up while he sat there. I had half a mind of running from the bathroom window but it would be too much work and he would find me anyway. So I just washed my face and went back.
He had already left for the car so instead of following him, I went to the waiter to say sorry.
“Your boyfriend is scary.” He replied. “I don’t think he would want you to talk to me.”
“He is not my boyfriend.” I cleared.
“Um… He seems pretty possessive about you.” He said.
“He is not posessive. He's crazy.” I corrected.
“Crazy about you.” The guy added. He was wrong though, Sean wasn’t interested in me in that way. He just likes to control everything and that’s why he doesn’t want anyone near me. Because that would make me feel like a human and he wouldn’t want that.
I said goodbye to him and walked out of the restaurant. Sean was leaning against his car, waiting for me, with his hands buried in the pockets of his jeans.
“I thought you might have tried to run.” He said, opening the door for me.
“I thought about it.” I said, sliding inside the car.
“What changed your mind?” He asked and motioned Thomas to start the car.
“My desire to reach my home.” I said.
“You’re becoming smarter.” He said, turning his face to the other side.
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