He was so cold he didn’t dare move a muscle.
Patricia told Aiden to take Chelsea back to the lab, then slid into Oliver’s car.
Tonight, Oliver wasn’t driving his usual Bentley. Instead, he was behind the wheel of a plain red sedan—it had to be Jaxon’s. Because of his job, Jaxon always kept up appearances. He’d never let anything he owned look out of place for someone on his salary, not even his watch. No matter how rich his younger brother Oliver was, Jaxon never showed off a bit of wealth that didn’t fit his role.
As soon as Patricia got in, she could feel the heavy mood filling the car. She glanced around, searching for something to talk about. “You borrowed your brother’s car tonight?”
“Yeah.”
“Tough night at dinner?”
At the red light, Oliver stopped the car. His hand slipped off the steering wheel and gently lifted her arm, turning it so he could get a closer look in the soft glow of the streetlights. The longer he stared, the darker his expression got.
If Patricia didn’t know why he was upset by now, she must’ve spent all these years with him for nothing.
She pulled her arm back a little. “It was just an accident.”
Oliver’s face stayed stormy. Her answer did nothing to calm him down. “Try not to go to those kinds of places. You never know who’s hanging around.”
“Okay,” she said quietly, nodding and falling silent in the passenger seat.
A minute later, her phone buzzed with a message.
Chelsea: “I’m back. Made it in time. That guy earlier was definitely trying to hit on you. If you weren’t so pretty, do you think he’d have come over all worried and offered to take you to the hospital? Oliver looked like he wanted to throw someone into the ocean.”

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