He moved to sit opposite her, leaning back against the seats, all loose-limbed and relaxed, his arms outstretched along the backrest, his long legs extended and crossed at the ankles. “There,” he said, his mouth curving into a smile that made her stomach curl. “That’s better isn’t it?”
She didn’t know if it was. Sure, it was warm, but that didn’t make her feel better and neither did he. For some reason he seemed even bigger in the car than he had out in the street, as if he was taking up all the air and all the space.
His overcoat had fallen open, revealing the dark suit he wore underneath. His business shirt was a deep, intense blue, and a couple of the top buttons were undone. Since he wasn’t wearing a tie, she could see a wedge of smooth, tanned skin.
Quickly, she glanced down at her hands instead, her heart beating oddly fast.
Looking at him made her head hurt, made her feel unsettled and antsy. He was so clean, so expensive. He made her feel acutely self-conscious in a way she’d almost forgotten. Aware of how dirty her clothes were and how they probably smelled. Of how her shoes didn’t fit and there were holes in her jeans and in her overcoat. Of how poor and small and vulnerable she was.
“You can relax, you know.” His voice was soft in the quiet of the car. “Like I said, I’m not going to hurt you.”
Yeah, well, he didn’t know that he already had. The moment he’d looked at her, given her attention, then that hat, he’d hurt her. Because wanting things she couldn’t have always hurt.
“You can take me to the shelter uptown,” she said, not relaxing one iota. “If we go now I can get dinner.” Not that she would. She’d wait until he’d gone, then she’d try for a free ride on the subway back to her alleyway.
You can’t. You need gloves. You need food. Staying outside tonight would be stupid.
Yes, well, what choice did she have? She didn’t want to stay the night in that shelter, not when she’d been pawed at and had her things stolen the one time she’d risked it.
You might be pawed at but at least you wouldn’t freeze to death.
He sighed and shifted, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped between them. “You really want to go there?”
She swallowed. He was sitting very near and she wasn’t used to being in such close proximity to another human being. That expensive, luxurious scent of his was making her head spin, and the way he was sitting had brought his leg close to hers, making her aware of his warmth.
“Yes,” she said thickly, trying to ignore all the sensations pulling at her, holding herself even more stiffly. “I need some dinner.”
There was a silence.
He was staring at her again, she could feel it.
“I have a better idea,” he murmured at last.
Mia tensed, every muscle in her body going even stiffer than they already were. There was a note in his voice, a note she recognized. It was the sound of someone who was going to try and help her, and if there was one thing she knew about the people who tried to help, it was that inevitably they only ended making her life worse.
“Aren’t you going to ask me what the idea is?” He sounded pleased with himself, as if he thought she was going to love whatever it was he was going to suggest.
She shook her head, concentrating on her hands in her lap. They hurt now as did her feet, the warmth penetrating her freezing skin, sharp pins and needles jabbing her.
“Right,” he went on. “Well, you’re going to hear it anyway. You could go to that shelter if you want. Or . . . you could come back to my apartment and you can have dinner there.”
“No,” she said flatly, not giving herself any time to think about, because there was no thinking about it. She knew where this was going.
“No?” he echoed. “Just like that, no?”
She looked up, giving him one hard fierce glance. “Yeah, just like that.”
His gaze was steady, direct, and he didn’t look away. The light from the street outside illuminated his face, all those perfect planes and angles, like the faces of the angels she’d seen on the top of graves in the cemetery. “I don’t know that I’m going to give you a choice about this, Mia.” Even though his voice was soft, she could hear the hard steel in it. “It’s cold outside. In fact, it’s freezing. You shouldn’t be on the streets tonight.”
A little surge of anger went through her. She didn’t take kindly to being “helped” at the best of times, and when he made it sound like an order, she liked it even less.
He’s right, though.
Still, just because she was homeless and poor, didn’t give him the right to tell her what to do. “I won’t be,” she snapped. “I was going to stay in the shelter for the night.”