He had actually switched to a less flashy car to pick her up.

Giselle Lambert rushed to the passenger side, her breath slightly uneven as she glanced at the clock.

“You’re five seconds late,” Henry Jefferson said, curling his index finger to tap his watch, his voice cool and detached.

Giselle’s lips tightened. After a fierce internal debate, she chose to be truthful. “I was just with my ex…”

“No need to explain.”

Henry, donning his sunglasses ...