Page 26 of The Don's Prisoner

“Oh, because it’s all my fault now?”

“Well, I was talking to the universe, but if you want to take responsibility for my assistant not showing up and the flat tire, then go right ahead. I won’t stop you,” she chuckled, and it did something to me on the inside. Butterflies? I hadn’t felt that feeling since I was a kid. What was wrong with me?

Maybe I just had gas. I had eaten a bean burrito earlier…

“No thanks, I’m not in the habit of borrowing trouble. I do a good enough job making my own.”

A little way down the road, I saw flashing yellow lights in the darkness on the side of the road.

“Darling, do you have your hazards on?”

“Yes.”

“Good, then I think I’ve found you. Sit tight while I pull over and get out to help, okay?”

“Will do,” she said, and I ended the call.

I pulled over to the side of the road in front of her and parked. Checking that my suit jacket was buttoned so Victoria wouldn’t catch a glimpse of my pistol, I got out of the car and walked back towards her. The yellow flashing hazard lights were blinding, and I put a hand up to shield my vision before I went over to her passenger-side window. I was going to knock on it so she could roll the window down, but instead, she got out of the car.

“It’s the passenger-side back tire,” she said, pointing over to the tools lying on the ground next to the very flat tire and started walking around to meet me at the back of her car. The new, spare tire was leaning against the car, waiting to be put on. The bad tire was already jacked up, and I checked the placement of the jack before starting to work to make sure she had placed it securely. She had. Her father had taught her well.

“You know, if you wanted to see me so badly, you could have just asked,” I teased as I lifted the crossbar she had lying on the ground and lined the lug nut up with the end of it. I had chosen a size too small, so I flipped it around and tried again. It went over the nut and clicked into place. Perfect.

“Yes. I intentionally gave myself a flat tire just so I could hook up with you on the highway at almost midnight. Sounds like a load of fun,” she muttered, and I smiled up at her as I felt the lug nut move just a little. It had indeed been on pretty tight, but I knew that once the nut had been cracked, it would be easy enough to take off.

“I don’t call that fun, but hey, whatever floats your boat,” I joked and she scoffed.

“You are a real ass, you know that?” she said as she watched me pop off lug nut number two with ease. “I swear they wouldn’t budge for me.”

“Oh, I believe you,” I told her honestly. “I have a buddy whose brother is a mechanic, and he showed me the difference between putting on tires by hand and putting them on with the help of an impact wrench. It’s like night and day, and sometimes they even put them on too tightly with the wrench. It can actually ruin aluminum hub caps because the pressure will warp them.”

“So… you’re a car guy,” she pointed out, and I shrugged.

“A little bit. Mostly just because of my Lamborghini. My father got it for me, and I became addicted to cars after that. Maybe if you’re really nice to me, I’ll let you drive it sometime,” I told her honestly.

If she really wanted to, I would let her drive it. I might have a heart attack while doing it, but I would let her. It scared me a little how much I was willing to do for her, and I couldn’t figure out how to stop it.

“That would be… really cool. Thank you,” she said, with a little hesitation in her voice. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the light flirting or the thought of driving my car that had her feeling unsure, but I decided to drop the topic, just in case it would set things back.

We were finally talking like normal people, like friends, and I wanted that to continue.

“I remember the last time I had to change a tire was for my little sister, Isabella,” I told her as I took the last lug nut off and removed the flat tire. Then, I lifted the new tire into place and began screwing the lug nuts back on. “Of course, this was when she was just learning how to drive. She and a friend had taken her friend’s dad’s car out, and while she was driving, she ran over a nail. Instant flat. She called me in tears because she didn’t want my father to find out. He had told her not to drive without him in the car until she had gotten her license. Of course, she hadn’t listened. Isabella has always had a tendency to just do whatever she wants, regardless of what other people think.”

“That’s admirable,” Victoria said and I shook my head.

“Not the way Bella does it. She does it in a destructive way.”

I tightened the last lug nut and stood up.

“You did that so quickly! I can’t even believe it,” she said, looking at me as if I were a whole new person.

“Practice, I guess,” I shrugged.

“They say it makes perfect,” she spoke softly, and I took a step forward. So did she.

We stood next to her car on a grassy patch of the highway shoulder, and neither of us seemed to be in any hurry to leave.

“Thank you,” she said and looked down at her hands, with which she was playing, anxiously. I took her hands in mine to stop her fidgeting and rubbed them.

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