“If you want to, what’s stopping you?”
Images of my father’s face bounced around in my head—every expression from his deep disappointment to his extreme ire made an appearance. The predictable opinions of some of my friends—Zoey, Presley, even Isaac—echoed through my head. I was an up-and-coming debutante expected to be the future of the financial business in this city. It wasn’t just a matter of whether or not I should be in this guy’s apartment. I shouldn’t even be seen with him.
“It doesn’t really look right…”
“You are worried about how this looks?” Ethan’s dark eyes glared at me, his head tilted off to one side a bit, and then he looked to the left and the right, down the nearly deserted streets. “Who’s going to see you?”
He had a point there. If his friends lived on the Lower West Side, wherever he was taking me was not likely to be a spot frequented by my father’s golf buddies. Then again, that also meant no one would know where I was or whom I was with.
“Well, that’s sort of the point.” I looked away, afraid of insulting him if I expressed my fears.
“You think I might hurt you.”
His words were a statement, not a question. Though what he said was true, I was also concerned about what people who knew me might think if they saw me with someone like him. How quickly would that information get back to Presley, or worse yet, my father?
“It’s not exactly that…”
“Yes, it is.”
“I just…don’t really know you.”
“Do you have a friend you can text my name and address to?”
I looked at him and then glanced down to the ground. I could send Presley his information, but if I did send it, and she thought I was going home with some guy in the most run-down section of town there was, she’d freak and might even send the cops there.
Ethan was still waiting for me to say something, but I had no idea what to say. Eventually, he got tired of waiting.
“You don’t have any friends you can text?”
“It’s not that,” I said, “I just…well, I wouldn’t know what to say to them. They’ll tell me I’m an idiot and probably send someone looking for me.”
“Hey, Ashlyn”—Ethan reached out and placed his left hand on my arm—“I don’t want you to be scared. I don’t know what to say other than what I already said—I’d never hurt you or anyone else, for that matter. I just want to spend more time with you.”
“I’d like to spend more time with you, too.” My heart was pounding. His words were pretty enough, but what else did I expect—a serial killer who says he plans to kill me and chop me up for dinner?
But Ethan hadn’t done anything but be perfectly polite and nice to me. He’d given no indications that he was dangerous. In fact, everyone we came across seemed to really like him. Maybe I was just being paranoid and silly.
“We both agree on that, at least.” Ethan grinned. “Why don’t you wait to decide when we get to my place? I can even tell Frazier to wait if you want.”
“All right,” I said. I took a deep breath. “You are right, and I’m being ridiculous. Let’s go.”
Chapter 5—Explanation
Ethan’s smile came back almost instantly, and he jumped up, righted the bike, and we were on our way again in no time. With the wind in my hair and eyes, it was difficult to figure out just which direction we were going, and Ethan kept speeding up one alley and down the other to avoid pedestrians. Before long, I looked up to find that we were riding past the high-rise department store buildings not far from where Presley and I liked to shop. Soon, we were approaching the end of the block.
I glanced back at Ethan as if that would give me a better idea of where we were going.
“Almost there,” Ethan said into my ear, his warm breath sending chills down my spine. He turned abruptly into a parking garage under the Marquise Apartment building and screeched to a halt near the elevator, wrapping one arm around my waist to keep me from falling off.
“Ethan.” A man dressed in a dark blue suit walked up and took a hold of one of the handlebars. “Good to see you again.”
“Hey, Henry.” Ethan greeted him by knocking his closed fist against Henry’s shoulder. “This is Ashlyn.”
“Good evening, miss,” Henry said with a nod. “Welcome.”
I was about as confused as I could get. I couldn’t even begin to guess what the rent in this building might be, so there was no way this kid who normally stayed with friends in the slums could possibly live here. This place was more than twice the price of the luxury apartments where Presley and I lived.
Henry took the bike and rolled it over to the elevator, waved a keycard, and the doors opened for us. He reached around and hit the button for the fifty-second floor, then stepped back out again.