Cynthia Dion:
He turned around and fixed a stern gaze upon my face.
"Do you want them to attack you?" he hissed, his sharp jaw clenched as he restrained himself.
"What makes you think I am safer with you?" I retorted, resisting the urge to cry or whisper, unlike every other time.
"Cynthia, follow me to my car," he instructed, his eyes closing briefly as he repeated the request.
"I can go home by myself," I muttered, attempting to walk past him. However, he positioned himself in my way, blocking my path.
"I can see that. They will still be waiting, hiding behind walls to catch you somehow. So, don’t make a scene, and follow me," he grunted, a noticeable air of annoyance around him. With his words framed that way, I found myself with no option but to trail him to his Bugatti.
No matte
