I stretched for my tote, which had shifted in my trunk.
“I still can’t believe you’re here.” Davis’s voice behind me was like a bouquet of dull knives and tin foil, and set my nerves on edge.
I took a moment to close my eyes and collect my nerves before turning to face him and instinctively taking a step backward. Breathe.
“Well, you knew I would be . . .”
“It’s cute when you trail off like that. It’s wonderful that you don’t care if people see you as inarticulate.”
I felt exposed standing so close to him in this wide-open space. The flashy red sports car parked nearby with the custom license plates—NO1DR—was his. I’d been so busy looking for Jake, I’d missed it. He used to tell people it was a joke, him nearing middle age—no wonder he’d drive such a flashy car. He actually chose it to read “number one doctor.” The car had changed in the years since we broke up, but the plates remained the same.
He chuckled, a grating sound. “I meant since news about you screwing the consultant is out. I figured you’d slink off somewhere.”
I clenched my jaw and remained silent, my heart tripping to get out of my chest, and I hoped my shock didn’t show.
His lip curled in a half smile. “Oh, Flip asked my opinion on it. He really trusts my judgment.” His eyes trailed down my body, and goose bumps rose on my skin. “You’re smart enough to know where your strengths are. It’s a bold move, I’ll give you that. I just didn’t know you had it in you to be so calculating.”
He reached across me and plucked the tote from my hands before I could stop him, his forearm grazing my breast, making me recoil. “Allow me.” He leaned against my car, my bag over his shoulder. I stepped back, but unsure who in the milling crowd knew what, I was desperate to avoid a scene.
“It won’t work, though, pretty girl. He can’t save your job. I could, though, if I was so inclined.” His voice held the same rogue confidence it always had. He laid a hand gently on my shoulder, and I flinched and shrugged it away. “It’s been a long time.”
Davis smiled—it was a rueful gesture. His hand returned and his thumb stroked the side of my neck. A cold flash ran through me. Over his shoulder, I saw Jill eyeing us, her normally cheerful expression turned into a frown. Does she know? She looked away quickly, and my face heated. Behind her, I saw another cold stare. Jake’s expression was impassive, but he was staring at Davis and me. When he looked at me, he always seemed to see so much, so I hoped he’d read my expression for what it was, even from that distance, but he didn’t.
I jerked back, but the damage was done, and Jake had turned away.
“Don’t be like that. You know I get what I want in the end.” Without another word, Davis pushed off from the car and strode toward the assembled group; he was still holding my bag, leaving me to follow along behind him like a lost, scared child.
I ducked into the back row of the van, hoping others would seek spaces with more leg room and I’d be left alone for the drive, but I’d miscalculated. Davis crawled into the back next to me, claiming the rest of the bench seat, his legs and arms spread wide. He leaned close to my face as he fumbled with his seat belt, and his hand brushed the outside of my thigh. “Didn’t think you’d get rid of me that easily, did you?” He said it under his breath, the consonants hard and cold, even in a whisper.
My mind screamed say something, move to a different seat, or slap him, and I tried to remember Wes’s voice from my self-defense class, but my body retreated to old reactions. I flinched, goose bumps rising on my arms. From the front seat, Jill shot cutting glances in my direction, and a familiar sense of helplessness filled me as this cycle seemed to be starting again.
We turned out of the parking lot, and Davis said in a voice loud enough for most passengers in the van to hear, “So, Naya, feel free to ask me about anything you don’t understand when we get there—I’m happy to help.” The two people in the seat in front of us smiled at Davis over their shoulders—two of his former cronies—and they all exchanged pleasantries.
His voice lowered, and I was sure the others couldn’t hear it over the sounds of the road and their own conversations. “You can beg, too. I liked it when you begged.”
I recoiled, curling into the smallest possible amount of space I could take up on the seat. “Leave me alone, Davis,” I muttered. I wanted to strike him or punch him, to hiss at him. Everyone would hear, though. Above all, I wanted to fly under the radar, as I had done for years, and sink into the seat.