It was an order, not a suggestion, making her uneasy. She had of course noticed Jake's tendency to take control and, in some ways, it was a relief. As he had astutely pointed out at dinner, she was weary of having to plan ahead, of being the responsible one. Would it hurt to just let him take care of her for a bit? He'd been pursuing her for weeks and he'd succeeded at wearing her down, quieting that inner voice that had been shouting he wasn't what he portrayed himself as.
She had let herself be led to the car and buckled in by Jake, and before she knew it, they were pulling up in front of a large, brick, ranch-style home that somehow seemed too domesticated for Jake Davenport. It looked like the kind of house a family with 2.5 kids and a dog would live in. Maybe she had read him wrong and he was more than a playboy bachelor? Hope blossomed.
When she reached for the latch to the car door, Jake corrected her. "Ladies don't open their own doors. Sit."
Another order, albeit encompassing a polite gesture.
She watched him exit and walk around the front of the car to open her door, reaching in to assist her out like a gentleman. The walk up the front path was quiet, yet her sixth sense was getting louder with each step she took, shouting at her not to go inside. It was so strong, she dragged Jake to a stop a few feet before they reached the front door.
"I... think... I need more time. I'd like to go home now and think about the offer some more," she said.
Jake's left hand squeezed her arm just above her elbow, pulling her close to his body. Impatience and anger threaded through his words. "There is no backing out now, Hannah. We've come all this way. We're going inside."
The pinch of his fingers kept tightening until it hurt so badly she cried out, turning her eyes to his to question how far he would take this. She met a brick wall. A full-body shiver thundered through her, giving Jake the chance to pull her along towards the front door.
She was flustered and only partly aware of the elaborate security measures he used to get inside the middle-class home in suburban Palo Alto. Alarm bells continued to go off as she recognized the retinal identification followed by the pin-pad, where Jake punched in a long entry code. It felt like they had been thrown into the plot of a spy movie.
Only after passing through several layers of high-tech security did the front door unlock to allow them entry. He still held her by the arm, pulling her across the threshold and shutting the door with a thud. The sound of the door locking automatically surprised her. She longed to reach out to test if she'd be allowed to leave, but Jake didn't give her time.
The house was dark save a few recessed lights that gave the space a shadowy feel, upping her nervousness. Hannah took deliberate deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself as she was led silently across the foyer, through a dining room, and into a large living room sporting a full-length bar illuminated by several neon signs.
She wasn't exactly sure what her imagination had thought she'd find inside his home, but she began to relax, berating herself for being so skittish when, truly, Jake had been nothing but a gentleman so far, albeit a bossy one.
Jake deposited her in a tall bar stool, placing his hands on her hips and lifting her effortlessly to sit in the high chair. At five foot one, Hannah was petite. Her legs barely reached the rung of the stool as he swung it to face the bar. The mirrored back wall was lined with top-shelf liquors of all kinds. It was like being at her part-time job as bartender at the Four Seasons.
"This place is like a fortress," she said. "Why all the security?"
He looked at her for a long moment. "It's a hobby of mine. There's nothing I don't know about the latest high-tech security measures and gadgets." Then, with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes he added, "In fact, it's the only thing I do better than fuck."
His obscene observation got her pulse racing faster.
Jake moved around the bar as she watched him pour himself a brandy and her a white Russian. She didn't want to examine how he'd figured out her favorite drink without asking.
Only when he placed the glass on a cocktail napkin in front of her did he lean forward, his elbows on the bar so his face was only inches away from hers. There was just enough light in the room to see the flicker of anger in his icy blue eyes as he finally broke the uneasy silence.
"Now, I think it's fair to tell you my patience is running thin, Hannah. I feel I've been more than patient with you these past few weeks and, more importantly, I know that what I'm offering is a dream come true for a girl like you. Part of what attracted me to you in the first place was your mix of sweet innocence and worldly experience. Having said that, this holier-than-thou routine needs to stop right now. I know you're not the innocent you portray yourself as being."
The edge in his voice was sharp, putting her on defense. "I never said I was an innocent."
"Not in so many words, but your reluctance to go out with me or take what is a very attractive job offer I've given you is getting tedious. Effective immediately, you're employed by me. Drink your drink and then I'll show you where you'll work. We'll go through the employment contract that lays out your responsibilities, the rules, and the consequences for less than stellar performance."
"Consequences, Jake?"
"Consequences, Sir. When we are in this house or at one of my other
