Free The Billionaire's Pledge by Rachel Bond

leaned against the counter, arms folded across his chest, staring in the direction of the island where he’d opened the wine so impressively just hours before. His face was locked in a stoic mask, his jaw set and eyes hard. She watched his eyes, but they never wavered, never moved. Her father had gotten like this when he was upset. She recognized the signs—Zac had shut down, closed off his emotions and communication to protect himself from opening up and getting hurt.
    She knew it was probably pointless, but she made one last effort to get him talking. She should probably drop it, but the words gushed out anyway.
    “Just tell me what’s going on,” she said. It felt like begging. “It would be a lot easier. I thought you were attracted to me. I thought you liked me. We were kissing and then—what happened? Did I do something you didn’t like? All that stuff you said earlier, all that flirting. Was that just your way of amusing yourself?” 
    She’d built up a tremendous head of steam now and she couldn’t stop herself. All the pent-up frustrations of her life of rejection came pouring out. Now she was feeling mean. But still, Zac never moved. If she’d never met him before, she might have assumed he couldn’t hear a word she was saying.
    She kept going. “You like to wrap a girl around your finger like a plaything…and lead her on…and then kick her onto the street? Does that give you a thrill? All your money and you can’t get it up? Well you did for me. Guess you like being on a fucked-up power trip, huh?”
    She wiped sweat from her forehead. She wasn’t even sure of everything she was saying. She was so angry she couldn’t think straight. But if she thought she’d upset Zac, she was wrong. Finally he moved a little. His eyes focused somewhere else, but still not on her.
    He took a little breath and let it out. “Please just take the keys and go. I’m not into having a conversation about this right now.”
    Savannah finally realized she had to accept what he was saying, and she gave up trying to communicate. Just like a man to get all tight-lipped when things got difficult. She’d thought Zac was different. She’d been wrong.
    She sighed. “Okay.” It felt like acknowledging defeat in battle.
    He merely nodded, almost imperceptibly, and said nothing.
    Savannah let herself out and walked to the side yard to find the car. When she got there she found a bright yellow Lamborghini, obviously the car she’d seen earlier. “You’ve got to be kidding,” she said under her breath. It didn’t even look like a real car. It looked like something from a sci-fi movie, or a concept car, or a 3D rendering created in some distant future and sent back in time to the present. The door unlocked as she reached for the handle—apparently reacting to the keys in her hand—and it opened upward rather than out, with a faint swishing sound but with no effort from her. 
    “Holy shit,” she muttered, climbing in. 
    She gave one last glance at the house. The kitchen window was only a few feet away, facing the driveway. She saw the back of Zac’s head, still not moving. She watched him for a moment, then started the engine and backed out into the street.
     
    ***
     
    Driving the Lamborghini, she felt like the pilot of a space ship, and when she passed a man on the sidewalk she saw him staring open-mouthed at the vehicle. The engine rumbled and roared even when floating along the street at twenty miles per hour. She drove to her office, switched to her Toyota (it had never seemed so shabby and boring), and drove home.
    Her anger over the strange events in Zac’s kitchen faded quickly, like a firework that bursts and then disappears, but it left an aftershock of emotion that she knew would remain for hours. 
    She took care of Ginger and gave her some pettings. Ginger rubbed against her leg and made silly cat noises. Savannah got out a pint of Chunky Monkey ice cream, sat on the sofa, and ate it with a large