The first five minutes were silent.
The hum of the engine, the swish of the wipers, and the rain lightly tapping against the windshield created a calming atmosphere. Nathaniel's eyes kept flicking to the rearview mirror, though he wasn't sure why.
There was something in the way she held the wheel, a slight tension in her jaw, the precision of her movements, that captured his attention.
"You've been driving long?" he asked.
Her eyes remained focused on the road. "I've been driving for six years and professionally for two."
"Why driving?" he inquired.
A small smile played on her lips. "I like having control and movement; driving gives me that satisfaction."
He found it hard to look away from her. She didn't gush or flatter; she didn't beg for attention. She simply existed, powerful, calm, and untouchable.
As the car slowed at a red light, Nathaniel leaned back in his seat.
"Most people don't say that," he almost murmured.
She glanced at him briefly. "Most people don't drive like I do either."
He wanted to ask more about her life, but something told him he was already in too deep.
By the time they reached his hotel, Nathaniel realized he had been watching her the entire drive. He didn't understand why, but he felt unsettled, and he hated that he couldn't help it.