“Yes, sir,” his driver says as he changes his route.
We arrive at the back of his club, Minx, where he rescued me from that group of assholes one night. It’s amazing how much has happened since that moment between us.
“Thanks for this,” he says, leaning over and kissing me one more time.
“Go. Sort out what needs to be done. I’ll be home waiting for you.”
He gives me a nod and jumps out of the car, then a small wave before he heads inside the club. Bernard takes off and merges back into the traffic again.
“That was very kind of you, Miss,” Bernard says as he looks up at me through the rearview mirror, and I can see the concern on his face that he might have spoken out of turn.
“It seemed important. I can wait,” I reply, shrugging my shoulders as if it’s no big deal because it is not.
Bernard gives me a small smile and looks back at the road.
Silence falls between us again, but now that I know Bernard is a little chatty, I want to see if I can find out more about Alistair because I haven’t met his friends or family yet.
“How long have you worked for Alistair?” I query him gently.
“Since he was a teen, Miss,” he answers naturally.
A memory of my own driver, Terry, hits me in the chest. When I left my parents, I left all the staff behind to cut away from that entire life. A pang of regret hits me because the staff was more like family than my own flesh and blood. Did they miss me when I left? Do they still miss me? I should really try to find them and see how they’re going. Do they still work for my parents? Or did they move on? Are they okay?
“I’m assuming you know his brother?” I ask cautiously, pushing the sensitive subject.
“Yes, Miss, I do,” he answers matter of factly, looking back at me through the mirror. His gray eyes have narrowed on me as if trying to work out what my angle might be.
“Is he really that much of a dick as he sounds on the phone?” I ask honestly.
Bernard tries not to laugh at my question, but I can see the faint curl of his lips through the mirror.
“He is aninterestingcharacter,” he finally answers me diplomatically.
That’s the polite way to say he’s the world’s biggest dick. “What about his ex? Is she crazy too?”
“Miranda was …” Bernard begins to talk but then shuts his mouth.
“I won’t tell Ali anything you say in this car,” I promise him.
Bernard eyes me suspiciously. I can tell he’s unsure whether he can trust me or not, and I guess rightly so. He answers with, “She wasn’t the right person for him, Miss.”
I can read between those lines—she was a bitch.
“I don’t think it was fair what they did to him,” I say, meeting his eyes in the mirror.
“No, it wasn’t,” Bernard agrees.
“I don’t think he should have to see the smug-ass face of his brother marrying his ex next week without someone on his arm who has his best interests at heart,” I confess to him.
“That’s very kind of you, Miss,” he says, but I can tell he’s unsure what my motives are by the way his eyes narrow when he talks.
“I’m not a gold digger if that’s what you’re thinking,” I explain. The last time he dropped his boss at the airport, he was single, and now he isn’t. I’d be suspicious too.
There’s silence.
Bernard doesn’t say anything, but he thinks it.
I get it.