Chapter 7 It Was Him

"When's the real Zephyr supposed to show up?" Brett's gaze turned cold, filled with spite. For him, this wasn't only about unmasking Caylee but also about crushing her pride and making her lower herself before him.

"Three days," Stacey answered.

"Perfect." Brett's teeth clenched. Three days was all he needed. By then, he'd make sure Caylee was on her knees, broken and pleading.

...

Outside the arena, Caylee stood waiting for her ride when an annoyingly sugary voice rang out behind her.

"Miss Jenkins, it's funny that you're not in Matthew's car. I just saw him drive off." Stacey's voice was laced with sarcasm.

Everyone knew Matthew's obsession with cleanliness meant nobody ever rode in his car. So the remark was no accident. It was her way of trying to recover some pride after Caylee had embarrassed her earlier.

Caylee only rolled her eyes, looking far too uninterested to respond.

Stacey smirked and pushed further. "It's empty out here. If Matthew won't give you a lift, what's your plan? Walk all the way home? Poor thing. Brett, maybe let her ride with us?"

Brett's face hardened. "For Stacey's sake, get in the car."

When Caylee stayed still, Brett lost his temper. "Don't test me, Caylee. I told you to get in the car!"

And then, Caylee's restraint finally cracked. "Are you really that thick? I wouldn't step in your car if it were the only one left. Now back off."

"Caylee!"

Red with fury, Brett stormed over, snatched her phone right out of her hand, and barked, "I said get in!"

That was it. In one sharp move, Caylee caught his shoulder, twisted, and flipped him flat onto the pavement.

His cry of pain ripped through the empty street, raw and pitiful.

At that moment, a sleek, low-key luxury car pulled up. The tinted window lowered, revealing Matthew's composed face. His eyes skipped right over Brett, who was still on the ground, and settled on Caylee. "Not the safest spot to wait for a cab," he said in a smooth tone. "Would you like a lift?"

Brett, forgetting his pain, just stared at Matthew in shock.

Matthew, the same man who would turn down billion-dollar contracts to protect his germophobia, was inviting Caylee into his car?

Caylee hesitated for a moment. She didn't want to get tangled with Matthew, but staying near Brett was even worse. "In that case, thank you, Mr. Walsh."

She yanked her phone out of Brett's hand and got into the car.

Meanwhile, Brett's face flushed with humiliation, and before he could say anything, Stacey chimed in with a fake-sweet voice. "Matthew, didn't you hate having anyone in your car? Or did Caylee fix that for you? If your mother hears someone solved your little issue, she'll be delighted. Maybe I should let her know right away."

Every word carried a hidden warning. Stacey was using Matthew's mother to box him in, while also reminding Caylee that his mother was still a wall blocking any naive ideas she might have had.

Caylee opened her mouth to reply, but Matthew's cold voice cut through. "Mr. Griffiths, get your woman under control. If she wants to act familiar when she's not, that's on her. But the Walsh name still carries weight, and I won't have it dragged down."

With that said, he drove away, leaving Caylee catching sight of Brett's and Stacey's sour faces shrinking in the rearview mirror.

Sitting in the passenger seat, she let a small, pleased smile slip. "Thanks for stepping in back there."

Matthew's answer came short, almost indifferent. "No need to thank me."

The highway lights streaked by in shifting shadows, and something nagged at Caylee's thoughts. Curious, she asked, "Did you race today? I didn't see you on the track at all."

Matthew slid her a sideways glance. His looks were the kind that drew eyes without effort, but it was the calm, controlled air he carried that made his presence impossible to forget.

"My driving isn't good enough to impress you, Miss Jenkins," he said with a quiet smile. "I'd be ashamed to pretend otherwise."

After a bit more polite small talk, his tone turned serious again. "I'm very interested in your personal cooperation with us. Would you think about coming over to my company to keep heading that project?"

He paused, then added, "Of course, we'll be reconsidering our partnerships. The only reason Griffiths Group even had a seat at the table was because of you. Now that you're gone, they've lost their footing."

Caylee leaned back, looking relaxed. "I'd say Griffiths Group still has its uses. I heard you're curious about their new industrial chain. Start at one entry point and expand through the whole line-sounds like something that would interest you, right?"

He caught the meaning instantly, a soft laugh slipping from him. "Then, here's to a successful partnership."

"To a successful partnership," she echoed, her eyes lingering on him. From this close, there was something oddly familiar in his face. The thought pulled at her, and she ended up staring longer than she should have.

Noticing, Matthew leaned closer, amusement glinting at the corner of his mouth. "Like what you see?"

Startled, Caylee felt heat rush to her cheeks.

Only then did she realize the space between them had vanished, his clean, cool scent brushing against her senses.

The closeness left her unsettled, her heart beating too fast.

"W-What are you doing?" she whispered.

"Relax," he murmured, tugging at the belt across her chest. "Just helping you with your seatbelt. We're here."

Embarrassed, she glanced up, ready to thank him, when her breath caught. For a fleeting instant, his eyes overlapped perfectly with the ones behind that racing helmet. Her mind went still.

It was him.