Page 23 of Mr. North
“Was it when you crashed your car into the Waldorf?” I ask. “It was all over the news. It’s hard not to hear about these things.”
The muscles in his jaw tense, his back straightening, like an electric current is suddenly flowing through him. “Yes,” he says simply. No further explanation offered. No words of self-defense. No apology. Just that one clipped, hard-edged word, and the steel that forms in his eyes.
Well. Apparently he’s not going to expand on that. I’d ask further questions, try to glean more information from him, but I already know him well enough. He won’t tell me anything else. He won’t give me what I want, the stubborn bastard. Doesn’t stop him from grilling me, though.
“Since we’re asking questions, why did you refuse to let Nate come and get you earlier?” he asks.
I take another mouthful of my food. “I like riding the subway. I enjoy it. And I’m sure Nate has better things to be doing for you than shuttling me around the city.”
“What do you like about the subway?” He ignores my comment about Nate altogether.
“I like the people watching. I like how you don’t have to sit in traffic. And I like to read all of the adverts. I find them interesting.”
“The adverts?” His voice rises at the end.
“Yeah, what’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all. People just usually try and ignore the ads. The general populous hates feeling like they’re being tricked or brainwashed into buying something.”
“I don’t like that part,” I tell him, swallowing down more sorrel soup. “I just like the snappy strap-lines and the pictures.”
Raphael pushes his bowl away. “That’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard. There were over five hundred sex crimes reported on the subway last year.”
“I carry mace.”
Raphael’s brows rocket up to his hairline. “Is that true?”
I shake my head. “No. I carried some mace a long time ago. I accidentally hit the button in my bag, though, and the fumes made me throw up. I had to toss the bag, too. It was my favorite.”
“Is it because of Nate?” he asks. “Would you feel better if you drove yourself over here?”
“No, I told you. Nate’s awesome. It has nothing to do with him. And besides, I’m not going to be buying a car any time soon.”
“Because you can’t afford one, or because you don’t want one?”
I stop eating. I raise my eyes until they meet his. We are entering very dangerous territory. “Both .”
“Because I have cars you can borrow, Beth. It’s not a big deal.”
I stare at him for a moment, and then I wipe my mouth with my napkin, pushing my soup bowl away as well. “Please…don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Offer to lend me something that most people have to save for a very long time to afford. Like it’s nothing to you.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m a problem solver, Beth. Loaning you a car merely seemed like a good solution to a problem.”
“I don’t have a problem. I told you. I like riding the subway.” Defiance rings clear in my tone. I’m daring him to say another word on the matter. Daring him to open his mouth and say something that will light the fuse on my very short temper. He doesn’t, though. He merely nods, rubbing his palm against the smooth, polished surface of the table.
“When I saw that photo of you and Thalia together, it was more than simple curiosity,” he says. “I looked at your face, and you didn’t remind me of a single person. No one from my family. No one from school. No one from here, or from working at North Industries. You were just…a brand new person. Someone I had no negative associations with. You had this look of pure happiness on your face. Your mouth was open, your eyes almost closed, smoke on your breath… You looked so free. You were absolutely beautiful. I felt drawn to you, and I wanted to meet you.”
He shrugs in a complacent, unaffected way. The way a person shrugs when they talk about wanting something, not knowing what it might be like not to get it, as if the thought never even occurred to him.
“It looks like you got your wish,” I say softly.
“It looks like I did. The problem with me is that I’m never satisfied, though.”
“Oh? How so?”
