Layers(38)

“What do you mean?” he questions.

“Why do you need them?”

“Robbers. You know, they usually like this kind of house,” he says, his mouth twisted in humor.

“Come on, it can’t just be because of that.”

“No, it isn’t just that. Being in the public eye sometimes brings trouble.” He sighs and licks some wasabi from the side of his thumb. “What kind of trouble?” concern clearly heard in my voice.

“All sorts. Some people want to get near me. Some want to see me suffer.”

A painful flutter makes its way down my spine when I think that someone could hurt him.

“Did anybody threaten you or try to get in here?”

“I had some unwelcome incidents, but not lately, don’t worry about it.” He doesn’t elaborate much. He turns to look at me under his lashes, asking, “Are you worried about me?”

I wince and he kisses me.

“So, are you on the pill?”

Ah?

I almost choke on my next bite. “Talk about a change of subject.” I stare at him, somewhat surprised. “You sure do know how to carry on a proper dinner table conversation,” I chuckle nervously, fairly embarrassed.

“Well, are you?” he insists, solemn, disregarding my previous reply.

Will we be a party of three? Is Mr. Hyde joining us tonight? “Yes, I’m on the pill. Why?”

“I detest condoms,” he says, deadpan.

Could you be more blunt? This conversation is getting better by the minute. “I think we should get tested before getting rid of those.” I wrinkle my nose as I add my two cents.

“I couldn’t agree more. H, always the girl scout,” he chuckles, taking another mouthful of wasabi-dipped salmon sashimi. I shake my head, smiling.

“Can you do that tomorrow?” His voice couldn’t be firmer.

“I’m not sure I’ll have time, boss. You do know I started a new job today, right? And clinics, as far as I know, aren’t open in the evenings.”

“It’s important.” He frowns.

Okay, calm down. No need to go to the emergency room right now … “I’ll do it once I get the chance, perhaps this weekend,” I respond affirmatively. Even if I tried hard, I wouldn’t be able to come up with a better topic to discuss over sushi, I think, amused.

“And what about you?” I ask. Why should I be the only one urged to do the test?

“As soon as possible.” Not a shred of humor to his voice. And as though we didn’t discuss any uncomfortably serious STD-related topic just a minute ago, he asks, his eyes lighting up, “Do you want to continue watching that movie we left the other day?”

Here you are, Dr. Jekyll. I missed you.

“What’s the time?” I’m feeling a tad tired, satiated in all possible ways, but tired.

He cocks his head to check the clock on the stove. “Half past midnight.”

“I think I should be heading home now.”

He takes my hand and kisses each of my knuckles.

“Are you sure about that sleep over?”

“Yes, D.” I lean to kiss him and he counters eagerly. “I should be going. I have the drive back,” I say, before this innocent kiss starts round two of projecting. Not that I would mind, but I’m tired and expected to perform tomorrow at work.

“What are you driving? That scooter of yours?” he questions rhetorically, with a touch of irritation.

“Yes, it’s my vehicle thus what I drive.” What’s wrong with it?

“I don’t want you to drive it now, it’s cold and really late. I hate the thought of you driving it home,” he says, looking somewhat concerned. “Take one of my cars.”

One of? “No, I couldn’t, Daniel. I’ve been driving this scooter forever, it’s very reliable,” I try, smiling.

“Listen, this matter is not up for discussion.” He almost flares. Chill …

I send him a semi-annoyed glare. “I …” I don’t even manage to articulate a full word when he cuts me off, cupping my chin, tilting my face to absorb the full intent of his solemn look.

“I don’t want another visit to the hospital in the middle of the night.” His jaw tics. “God knows what could be the outcome next time. I. Want. You. Safe. So, yes, you can, and you are,” he says harshly.

Not waiting for my reply, he stands and strides toward the corridor leading to his bedroom and his study. “I’ll be right back,” he calls from the hallway.

“Here,” he says, waving a pair of keys as he returns.

“You don’t need it?”

“I have more than enough. Don’t worry, sweet Hayley, I’ll be able to get myself to work tomorrow.” He winks.

“I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

“Well, I’m sure for us both. It’s not an open discussion.” I roll my eyes.

“Okay then, I’ll get going now.” I’m too tired to be arguing this.

“I’ll walk you to the garage. Come on.” He embraces me.

There are five luxurious sports cars parked parallel to each other in the indoor garage, each more extravagant than the next.

“Here, take the Z4. My mom usually uses it when she’s around,” he says idly. A Beemer Z4? What if I scratch it, or worse, wreck it?