Page 101 of I'm sorry, Princess
But what unsettles me the most is how effortlessly he navigates through the city, like he’s done this route a million times. And then it happens, he pulls straight up to Sienna’s house without asking for an address. My eyes dart to her, but she’s just as stunned as I am.
How the hell does he know where she lives?
Sienna hesitates before unbuckling, her fingers gripping the door handle like she’s contemplating asking questions she won’t get answers to. “Well, thanks?” It comes out as half a question, half an attempt at gratitude.
He doesn’t even look at her.
She exhales sharply, giving me one last glance before stepping out. As soon as the door shuts, he pulls away without waiting to see if she makes it inside.
I watch the road stretch before us, but something isn’t right. My house is in the opposite direction. We’ve been driving for ten minutes now, then twenty.
‘‘Where are you going? My house is in the other part of the city,” I repeat, my voice sharper this time. My pulse quickens as I watch the city lights disappear behind us, replaced by long, empty roads that stretch into the night.
He doesn’t answer.
His hands grip the wheel with ease, his expression unreadable, his focus locked on the road ahead like he has all the time in the world.
My stomach twists.
I shift in my seat, pressing my hands against my thighs to steady myself. “Are you kidding me right now? Turn the car around!” I snap, but still, nothing.
His gaze flicks up through the rearview mirror, his cold gray eyes meeting mine. The look he gives me is blank, unbothered, detached, like my protests are nothing more than background noise.
“If you think I’m just going to sit here and—”
“You are going to sit there,” he cuts me off, his tone as sharp as a blade. “And you’re going to shut up about it.”
My jaw clenches.
I don’t know who the fuck this guy thinks he is, but I’m not just going to let him drive me to God-knows-where like some kidnapped princess in a mafia movie.
I reach for my phone, but before I can unlock it, he speaks again.
“Call whoever you want. No one’s coming for you,” he says simply, his voice eerily calm. “You’re safer with me than anywhere else tonight.”
I freeze.
Safer?
What the hell does that mean?
I stare at his reflection in the mirror, trying to read him, trying to find something in his expression that will tell me what the fuck is going on, but there’s nothing. Just the same cold, unreadable indifference.
The realization settles in like ice in my veins.
I don’t know this man. I don’t even know his name.
But he knows where Sienna lives. He knows where I live.
And now, he’s taking me somewhere else.
As we approach, the massive black iron gates slide open with an eerie smoothness, revealing a long, tree-lined driveway that seems to stretch endlessly into the darkness. The moment we pass through, the gates close behind us with a quiet finality, as if sealing off the rest of the world.
The car moves steadily along the pristine asphalt path, flanked by towering pines that cast long, ghostly shadows in the dim lighting. It’s a two-minute drive, but the silence inside the car makes it feel longer. My heart is pounding in my chest, the weight of where I am sinking in with every second that passes. I don’t belong here.
Then, the house appears.
No, not a house. A fortress.
