Why Can’t I Escape This Man Chapter 11

Why Can’t I Escape This Man Chapter 11

Evan pressed his lips together. He lowered his eyes to the front of his shirt, which had been stained with my tears. His gaze grew deeper.

He brushed his collar, fingers grazing the damp patch. They twitched.

I remembered his cleaning obsession. “Mr. Chase, give me the shirt. I’ll wash it and return it.”

He paused but didn’t answer.

“Mr. Chase?” I tried again.

“Why are you still working so late?”

His question cut me off. I blinked, shifting my gaze from his collar to his face.

“Some work came up.”

He nodded. Shadows pooled under his lashes.

He said nothing.

I waited, then clutched my bag. “I should head home.”

“It’s raining.”

I blinked. “Oh. I’ll run then.”

He paused. “Not many cabs out there.”

“Thanks for the heads-up. I’ll call a ride.”

“Too much rain. Rideshare will take forever.”

“No problem. I can wait two hours.”

He fell silent again, his eyelids dipping.

“I’ll drive you.”

The words came abruptly, quiet. He turned and walked off, leaving me stunned.

At the elevator, he glanced back. “You coming?”

So I followed him, still half-dazed.

It was pouring. No way I’d get a cab. Mash was probably waiting up-he never slept until I came home.

Riding with Evan was the best option.

I snuck a look at him. His face was blank, fixed ahead, no extra glances my way. Total stranger behavior.

I let out a quiet breath. I didn’t notice his fingers shift in his pocket, pushing the fabric out just slightly before

relaxing again.

I got in. A driver was up front, which helped me relax enough to take in the car.

Then it hit me-the interior, the back seats, the armrests. Every curve was burned into my memory. Evan and I had used this car for… things I didn’t want to think about. There was probably still a box in the glove

compartment-

I stopped that thought cold, I shrank into the wide leather seat like a frightened quail, pressing myself closer

and closer to the car door.

The car was quiet. I counted streetlights.

When I counted to the thirteenth streetlight, I suddenly felt his gaze fall on my profile.

I held out, then gave in and turned.

Evan was slouched in his seat, head tilted, watching me. Light flickered across his sharp features, shadows dancing. His hand rested on his knee, the other on the seat between us-fingers inches from my leg.

I opened my mouth to speak.

He spoke first. “Rina, have we met before?”

I froze, mind blank. “You must be joking, Mr. Chase. I just started. How could we have met?”

“Oh?” He pressed his lips together, his eyes searching mine. “Then why does my heart race every time I see

you?”

I opened my mouth. My brain short-circuited.

“Maybe… you have a heart condition?”

He whipped his head away. The air grew cold. I could only see his rigid profile.

Silence.

“Get out,” he said.

I blinked. “What?”