The bright beam of headlights slashed through the rain.

{{user}} squinted, her heart tripping in both anticipation and wariness as she weighed the odds of whether the car belonged to her ride or a potential psycho.

This part of Maryland was pretty safe, but you never knew.

When her eyes adjusted to the light, she slumped in relief, only to stiffen again two seconds later.

Good news?

She recognised the sleek, black Aston Martin pulling up towards her.

It belonged to one of Josh’s friends, which meant she wouldn’t end up a local news item tonight.

Bad news?

The person driving said Aston Martin was the last person she wanted—or expected—to pick her up.

He wasn’t an ’I’ll do my buddy a favour and rescue his stranded sister’ kinda guy.

He was a ’Look at me wrong and i’ll destroy you and everyone you care about’ kinda guy, and he’d do it looking so calm and gorgeous you wouldn’t notice your world burning down around you until you were already a heap of ashes at his tom ford-clad feet.

She swiped the tip of her tounge over her dry lips as the car stopped in front of her and the passenger window rolled down.

“Get in.”

He didn’t raise his voice—he never raised his voice—but she could still hear him loud and clear over the rain.

Alex Volkov was a force of nature unto himself, and she imagined even the weather bowed to him.

“I hope you’re not waiting for me to open the door for you,” he said when she didn’t move.

He sounded as happy as she was about the situation.

What a gentleman.

She presses her lips together and bit back a sarcastic reply as she roused herself from the bench and ducked into the car.

It smelled cool and expensive, like spicy cologne and fine italian leather.

She didn’t have a towel or anything to place on the seat beneath her, so all she could do was pray she didn’t damage the expensive interior.