Again?
"No. No, no, no-"
Iris Quinn gripped the steering wheel tighter and turned the key again.
Click.
Nothing.
She dropped her forehead against the wheel with a groan. "You cannot do this to me today."
The old sedan had been threatening death for months now, but apparently it had chosen the middle of nowhere to finally commit to it.
Perfect.
Outside, the empty road stretched endlessly beneath the dark evening sky. Trees lined both sides like shadows, and the nearest town was at least twenty minutes away.
Iris reached for her phone.
One bar flickered briefly before disappearing completely.
"Seriously?"
She climbed out of the car, pulling her jacket tighter against the cold wind. The headlights from her dead car barely lit the deserted road.
"This is how horror movies start," she muttered.
She walked a few steps down the road, lifting her phone into the air like that would magically summon a signal.
Nothing.
A distant pair of headlights suddenly appeared around the bend.
Her shoulders relaxed instantly.
"Oh thank God."
The black SUV moved smoothly down the road, expensive enough to cost more than three of her broken-down cars combined.
It slowed.
Then stopped beside her.
The tinted window rolled down slowly.
And there he was.
Damon King.
Sharp jaw. Dark eyes. Expensive suit. Expression already filled with disapproval.
Iris sighed dramatically. "Of course it's you."
His gaze flicked toward her smoking car before returning to her face.
"Your car broke down again?"
She crossed her arms. "You say that like it's a weekly event."
"It is a weekly event."
"Wow. Good evening to you too."
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth before disappearing just as quickly.
For a second, neither of them spoke.
The rain grew heavier between them.
Iris had known Damon most of her life because of his younger sister, Clara. Sleepovers, birthdays, family dinners - he had always been there in the background. Quiet. Serious. Watching everything.
Even at sixteen, he'd acted older than everyone else.
And after his parents died, he became untouchable.
While other teenagers worried about parties and dating, Damon King was learning how to run a billion-dollar company and raise a grieving twelve-year-old girl alone.
Now he was one of the youngest CEOs in the country.
Cold. Powerful. Completely impossible.
And unfortunately for Iris, still painfully attractive.
"You're staring," Damon said.
Her eyes widened. "I was not."
"You were."
"I was thinking."
"That sounds dangerous."
She glared at him while he opened the passenger door.
"Get in."
Iris blinked. "What?"
"Unless you plan on living beside the road now."
"I can handle myself."
"I'm sure you can," he said dryly. "But your car clearly can't."
She hated how effortlessly he made her want to argue.
And maybe that was why she got into the SUV anyway.
The moment she sat down, warmth surrounded her.
Damon glanced at her briefly before pulling back onto the road.
Neither of them noticed the way her heart started beating faster.
Or how his grip tightened slightly on the steering wheel.
Because some disasters don't begin with explosions.
Sometimes they begin with a broken car... and the wrong man stopping to help
