Going Home 2

The ride to Chris's house was a battle of wills. Claire sat stiffly in the passenger seat, arms crossed, while Chris exuded his usual confidence, his hand casually resting on the gear shift.

"You know, you didn't have to come if you're going to be this uncomfortable," he teased, glancing at her.

Claire shot him a glare. "You coerced me into this."

"And yet, here you are," He said. Though his smirk was infuriating, she couldn't deny the flutter in her stomach.

When they arrived, his home was exactly what she expected—classic, elegant, and imposing, just like him.

"Welcome to my humble abode," Chris said, opening the door for her.

"Humble, my foot," Claire muttered, stepping inside and taking in the grand staircase and art-adorned walls.

He laughed, his hand resting lightly on her lower back as he guided her to the living room. "You want something to drink?"

"I want to leave," she quipped, but there was no bite in her tone.