Willa slammed on the brakes, glaring at him. "Randal Yates, if you don't want to die, sit still and keep your hands to yourself."
Randal remained completely unfazed by her outburst. The smile on his lips deepened, masking a predatory gaze that hinted at unrestrained madness. "Going to hell together doesn't sound too bad."
Willa's heart skipped a beat, her gaze caught on his sharp profile for a fleeting moment.
The cars behind them grew impatient, laying on their horns to urge her forward. She snapped out of her daze, slammed on the gas, and the sports car shot forward.
The sudden acceleration was too aggressive, tossing Randal backward against the leather seat.
He let out a muffled grunt, steadied himself, and then suddenly chuckled.
"Still driving like a maniac. I told you back when I taught you that you needed to fix that reckless streak of yours."
Willa shuddered, a rush of memories washing over her.
She had learned to drive when she and Randal first got together. He had taught her himself.
Back then, she had barely gotten her license, and he had taken her out to speed around an empty track.
She had plenty of nerve but terrible skills.
Sitting in the passenger seat, he had guided her with exasperated affection. "Wills, don't stomp on the gas so hard. You need to anticipate, stay steady... Never mind, drive however you want. I'm right here with you anyway."
That feeling of absolute security, of knowing someone would always catch her so she could be as reckless as she pleased, was long gone.
"You just ran a red light," Randal pointed out.
Willa snapped back to reality, gritting her teeth. "Shut up."
Surprisingly, he actually complied and fell silent.
They drove the rest of the way in tense silence. Willa finally pulled into the destination, killed the engine, and tossed the keys at him. "You're here. I'm leaving."
"Where are you going?" he asked.
Willa arched an eyebrow, a sudden wave of irritation hitting her. "Do I need to report my schedule to you?"
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