Bowen led Aubree out of the restaurant, heading toward his car.

Just as Ethan and Samson were about to follow, Kelin quickly stepped in with a chuckle and blocked their way. “Hey, what’s the hurry? Can't you tell Mr. Turner wants some private time with Miss Miller?”

Ethan and Samson nodded in unison, then promptly changed course and put some distance between themselves and the car.

Realizing the trio hadn’t followed, Bowen shot them an approving glance out of the corner of his eye.

Kelvin swelled with pride – his bonus was safe.

Bowen held the passenger door open for Aubree.

Inside the car, Aubree pressed against the window, putting as much distance as possible between herself and Bowen. She’d have preferred the back seat, but knowing Bowen, who had already opened the passenger door, she knew he wouldn’t let her have her way.

Bowen’s fingers traced the steering wheel. He tilted his head, glancing at Aubree beside him. Why is she sitting so far away from me?

“Never mind,” Bowen thought to himself. “I’ve got all the time in the world!” Bowen pressed his lips together, the faintest smile playing at their corners.

The engine roared to life as Aubree clicked her seatbelt into place.

As Aubree watched the buildings outside the window slowly recede, a thought suddenly popped into her mind. “For someone like Bowen who always has a chauffeur, how good is he at driving himself?” she wondered.

Ethan slung an arm around Samson’s shoulders while Kelvin stood ramrod straight beside them. The three watched with satisfied smiles as the car slowly pulled away – but then, as it suddenly started zigzagging down the road, they all shouted in unison. “Oh no.”

Inside the car, Aubree clung to her seatbelt as she was jolted from side to side. “Wait a minute," she thought, "why is Bowen not as good at driving as expected?”

With a sudden brake, Aubree lurched toward Bowen, her forehead bumping into his firm chest. For a split second, she thought, Nice physique. But then suspicion crept in, Wait, did he do that on purpose?

Bowen gave an awkward chuckle, meeting Aubree’s suspicious gaze as if seeing right through her thoughts. “I’m genuinely a bit rusty at driving.”

Aubree glanced at Bowen, a bit uneasy. “Maybe you should just have Ethan drive instead,” she suggested.

“They’re already gone. I’ve got this,” Bowen declared, not one to back down. Calling them back now? How humiliating would that be?

Aubree had no choice but to keep quiet.

Bowen was indeed rusty at first, but he quickly got the hang of it. In no time, the car was cruising smoothly and steadily down the open road.

Maybe it was the intense jolting just now, but Aubree felt a wave of dizziness. Pressing her forehead against the window, she squeezed her eyes shut as a wave of nausea rose within her, trying to fight off the discomfort.

Bowen quickly noticed her discomfort. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I’m a bit dizzy,” Aubree murmured. No sooner had she spoken than Bowen reached out and grasped her other hand, which had been hanging limply by her side.

Aubree instinctively tried to pull her hand away.

Instead of letting go, Bowen tightened his grip on her hand.

In that instant, Aubree’s entire focus was pulled to his hand – his warm, dry fingers pressed tightly against hers, leaving no gap between them.

“Bowen?” Aubree blurted out, her voice laced with urgency and surprise.

Aubree felt a sudden rush of panic. “I thought I was prepared for this,” she thought, "but I never expected Bowen to make a move so quickly."

"Should’ve told me you were after me – I would’ve grabbed the cash and run ages ago.”

Instantly, the dizziness vanished and the nausea disappeared.

Bowen stopped the car at the red light. Locking eyes with Aubree, his deep, commanding voice left no room for argument. “Don’t squirm.”

Bowen gently took her hand in his, lowering his gaze to study it. Bree’s fingers were beautiful, but not the delicate kind pampered by luxury – he could feel the calluses on her palms and fingertips.

Aubree’s ears burned red – not from shyness, but as a natural physiological response. She could feel his warm fingertips slowly tracing across her palm; everywhere he touched seemed to ignite like wildfire, leaving a trail of searing heat in their wake.

“My hand doesn’t even feel like mine anymore – it’s scalding hot," she wondered.

Bowen’s fingers finally came to rest, pressing firmly into the fleshy web between her thumb and index finger. He kneaded it twice with deliberate pressure.

In a low, reassuring voice, he said, “This should help.”

Maybe it was just her mind playing tricks, but she did feel much better.

“I can do it myself,” Aubree said.

Bowen acted as if he hadn’t heard a word she said. As the light turned green and the car started moving again, his fingers continued their gentle kneading against her hand.