Boss, Your Ex-Wife is Unreachable Now! novel Chapter 106

Willow didn't run into Beasley when she went to pay the bill.

The driver she'd booked arrived right on time. Ablitt, red-faced and tipsy, offered to wait with Willow, but she insisted he go first—she'd only relax once she saw him safely into the car. So, with cheeks flushed from both alcohol and embarrassment, Ablitt obeyed and climbed in.

Only after watching his car disappear down the street did Willow finally turn back to her own vehicle.

She needed a moment to catch her breath.

After all, Ablitt had been standing much too close just now.

He was drunk and unsteady, forcing her to steady him with a hand on his arm. Luckily, all she suffered was a racing heart and a cold sweat—nothing worse. No wave of nausea, no urge to run. Maybe that exposure therapy was starting to work. Before, just walking side by side with a male classmate would leave her breathless and desperate to push him away.

Willow sat in her car for a long while, waiting for her nerves to settle. Only then did she pull out her phone, about to order her own ride home.

She'd barely opened the app when the passenger door suddenly yanked open.

Startled, Willow turned—only to see a broad-shouldered, far-too-familiar figure slide into the seat beside her.

She froze, hands clenching around her phone, momentarily forgetting what she'd been about to do.

"Give me a lift," Beasley said, settling in as if he owned the place, utterly at ease.

Willow snapped back to herself, anger flaring. "Get out!"

Of course—she'd been distracted, thinking about booking a ride, and hadn't bothered to lock the doors. Careless!

Beasley didn't budge. "We're headed the same way. Just drive."

She glared at him. "I've been drinking. I can't drive."

He arched an eyebrow, lips twitching. "Then get out and let me drive."

Willow was speechless. She'd never met anyone so shameless—how had she missed this in her last life? "Where's your own car?" she snapped, wishing she had the nerve (and the leg strength) to just kick him out.

"Terence drove me over tonight. He had an emergency, so I told him to leave," Beasley said, unruffled.

She knew Terence was his driver. She also knew that was just his excuse.

There was no getting rid of him now, not unless she wanted to hand over her car altogether—which she absolutely did not.

With a huff, she shoved her door open and slid into the backseat.

Willow gave a short, humorless laugh. "You force people into things they don't want, and expect them to be grateful?"

His voice dropped, seductive as a dare. "How do you know he wouldn't want to? I haven't even asked yet. If he's willing, where's the harm?"

Willow snorted. "Well, I can tell you right now—he's not interested."

"I'd still like to talk to him myself."

"There's no need."

Their conversation stalled, the tension thickening between them.

After a beat, Beasley spoke again. "I told you, you can name your price."

The Stormhawk Drones project was on a tight deadline, and so far he hadn't found anyone suitable—until he saw that video. Instinct told him the person controlling that miniature drone was exactly who he needed.

But Willow was stubborn as stone; she wouldn't give up a single detail. He'd tried digging around behind her back, but came up empty—Sanford hadn't found a thing, either.

The only way through was Willow.