Hot Driver - S01 E09

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Hot Driver - S01 E09

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 9

Ivory’s Room

Ivory stormed into her room, her heels clicking furiously against the marble floor. Her face was flushed with anger, her jaw tight, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

Duane followed behind her, his movements slower, more deliberate. His arm was still bleeding through the bandage, but he didn’t complain. He just watched her with that same infuriating calmness that made her want to scream.

Ivory spun around to face him. “Don’t you dare get blood on my carpet.”

Duane looked down at the pristine white carpet. Then back at her. “I’ll try my best.”

“Try harder.”

She walked to her closet and yanked open the door. She grabbed the first aid kit from the top shelf and slammed it onto the bed. Then she turned to face him.

“Sit,” she ordered.

Duane sat on the edge of her bed.

Ivory opened the first aid kit, pulling out bandages, antiseptic wipes, and medical tape. She was about to tell him to give her his arm when she looked up.

Duane had already taken off his shirt.

Ivory froze.

His chest was… she cursed inwardly.

Holy shit.

She quickly snapped her eyes away from his body as fast as she had looked at it. Her face burned. Her heart pounded. She set the first aid kit down on the bed with more force than necessary.

“Put your shirt back on,” she said, her voice sharp.

“I can’t. You need to clean my arm. The shirt was in the way.”

“You could have just rolled up the sleeve.”

“It was too tight.”

“Then you should have asked for scissors.”

“Are you going to clean my arm or not?” Duane asked, his voice calm. “Because I’m starting to think you enjoy seeing me in pain.”

Ivory glared at him. “You’re exaggerating the whole thing.”

“I’m not exaggerating.”

“You are.” She reached out and hit his arm.

Duane screamed. Not a small yelp. A full, dramatic, theatrical scream that echoed through the room.

Ivory’s eyes went wide. “What the hell?! I barely touched you!”

“That hurt,” Duane said, groaning dramatically. “That really hurt.”

“Stop making that sound!”

“I’m not making any sound.”

“You’re groaning like a wounded animal.”

“It’s a natural reaction to pain.”

“You’re faking it!”

“I’m not faking anything!”

Ivory grabbed a bandage and threw it at his head. It missed and hit his arm instead.

Duane screamed again, even louder this time.

“OH MY GOD!” Ivory shouted. “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

“What’s wrong with me?! You’re throwing things at a wounded man!”

“You’re not wounded! You have a scratch!”

“A SCRATCH?! I was hit by a car!, because of you”

Ivory opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. Because he was right. He had been hit by a car. And she had thrown a bandage at him.

She sighed heavily, picked up the antiseptic wipes, and knelt in front of him.

“Give me your arm,” she said flatly.

Duane extended his arm. Ivory began cleaning the wound, her movements sharp and efficient. She refused to look at his face. She also refused to look at his chest.

Throughout the entire treatment, she kept her eyes fixed on the wound.

Duane noticed.

“You know,” he said casually, “you can look at my chest if you want. I won’t judge.”

Ivory’s face went red with anger. “I don’t want to look at your chest!!!.”

“You keep avoiding it.”

“I’m not avoiding anything. I’m focusing on my work.”

“Sure you are.”

“Duane.”

“Ms. Bennett.”

“Shut up.”

“Whatever you say.”

Ivory finished cleaning the wound and began wrapping fresh bandages around it. Her fingers brushed against his skin. She pulled away quickly, like she’d been burned. She’s disgusted by touching this poor rat’s body

“Done,” she said, standing up. “Now get out of my room.”

“I can’t.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your mother told me to stay here. She said I need to rest, and that I should be watched over. Since you’re the one who caused this whole situation, you’re the one who has to watch me.”

Ivory’s face went red with fury. “I didn’t cause anything!”

“You threw me out of the house.”

“YOU walked out!”

“After you insulted me.”

“I didn’t insult you—”

“You called me a poor church rat.”

Ivory opened her mouth, then closed it. She had said that. She had said that to him. And he had walked out. And then he had been hit by a car.

She tried to push the guilt away and she did pushed it away, it wasn’t her fault.

“That doesn’t mean I have to watch over you,” she said flatly.

“It’s your mother’s orders. Not mine.”

Ivory clenched her fists. She wanted to scream. She wanted to throw something. But she knew it was useless. Her mother had made up her mind, and there was no arguing with Diana Bennett when she decided something.

“I know you will be glad to sleep in a billionaire’s room, you might have to log it in your diary”

“that’s preposterous.”

They glared at each other. Then, because Duane had to have the last word, he added, “Besides, I wouldn’t want to sleep in someone’s room who thinks she’s above everyone else.”

Ivory’s eye twitched. “You’re impossible.”

The maid knocked on the door. “Ms. Bennett? I’ve brought your dinner.”

“Bring it in,” Ivory said coldly.

The maid entered with a silver tray. On it were two plates of food — grilled salmon, roasted vegetables, and a side of rice.

Ivory looked at the tray. Then at Duane. “What is this?”

“Your dinner, Ms. Bennett.”

“And that?” She pointed at the second plate.

“Your mother asked me to bring a meal for Mr. Brooke as well.”

Ivory’s face twisted. “He’s not eating in my room.”

“Ms. Bennett—”

“Take it away. He can eat in the kitchen like a normal poor person.”

Duane raised an eyebrow. “I’m not allowed to eat in your room? Are you afraid I’ll enjoy the food too much?”

“I’m not afraid of anything.”

“Then let me eat.”

Ivory’s jaw tightened. She grabbed the second plate and shoved it toward him. “Fine. Eat. But don’t think this means we’re equals.”

Duane took the plate. “I would never think that, Ms. Bennett. After all, you’re above me. You’re above everyone. Right?”

Ivory glared at him. Then she grabbed her own plate and sat on the edge of her bed, as far away from him as possible.

The silence was tense.

Ivory ate her food in small, controlled bites. Duane ate his food like he hadn’t eaten in days.

“You’re eating like an animal,” Ivory said.

“I’m hungry.”

“Didn’t you eat at your house?”

“We didn’t have much.”

Ivory felt a small pang of guilt. She pushed it away. “That’s not my problem.”

“I didn’t say it was.”

“Then why are you eating like you haven’t seen food in days?”

“Because I haven’t. At least, not food like this.” He took another bite. “This is really good.”

Ivory rolled her eyes. “It’s just grilled salmon.”

“It’s not just grilled salmon.” He looked at her. “You don’t know what it’s like to be hungry, do you?”

Ivory paused. She opened her mouth to respond, then closed it.

She didn’t know. She had never been hungry. She had never had to worry about where her next meal would come from. She had never had to eat thin custard for dinner.

She didn’t answer.

—

Ivory’s Room – Midnight

Ivory lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling.

Duane was on the other bed, his arm propped up on a pillow, his breathing slow and steady.

She couldn’t sleep.

Her mind kept drifting to the past. To Ron. To Maeve. To the betrayal that had shattered her completely.

She had been so young. So naive. So stupid.

Ron had asked her out in front of the whole school. It was the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for her. He had gotten down on one knee, holding a single red rose, and said, “Ivory, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Will you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?”

The whole crowd had cheered. Maeve had been the loudest, screaming and clapping and shouting, “SAY YES, IVORY!”

She had said yes.

Ivory squeezed her eyes shut. The memory burned.

“Ron…”

She didn’t realize she had said it out loud.

Duane stirred on the other bed. He opened his eyes and looked at her.

“Who’s Ron?” he asked quietly.

Ivory’s eyes flew open. She turned to look at him. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You said a name.”

“I was dreaming.”

“You were mumbling.”

“I don’t mumble.”

“You do. You said, ‘Ron, why did you have to leave me heartbroken? I hate you.'” He paused. “Who is he?”

Ivory’s face hardened. “None of your business.”

“Okay.”

“Go back to sleep.”

“Fine.”

He turned to face the other way.

Ivory stared at his back she wanted to forget about it

But she couldn’t.

Because the memory was still raw. Even after all these years.

She turned to the other side.

—

Brooke Residence – Same Night

Celeste and Luis sat at the small kitchen table.

In front of them was a single plate of rice. Plain. No soup. No stew. Just white rice.

Luis looked at it. Then at his mother.

“Is this all?” he asked quietly.

“I’m sorry, baby. It’s all we have right now.”

Luis didn’t complain. He just picked up his fork and began to eat.

Celeste watched him. Her heart ached. She had failed. She was a mother who couldn’t even provide proper food for her child.

She was about to take a bite when her phone buzzed.

She picked it up. Looked at the screen.

Her hands started shaking.

“Luis,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

“What, Mama?”

“Look at this.”

She turned the phone toward him.

Luis stared at the screen. His eyes went wide.

“Half a million,” he breathed. “Mama, half a million.”

Celeste nodded, tears streaming down her face. “Someone sent us half a million.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know who sent it.”

Luis looked at her. “Is this real?”

Celeste read the message again. Then she looked at the sender’s name. Anonymous. No name. No number.

“It’s real,” she said. “It’s really real.”

Luis grinned. “We can pay the bills. We can buy food. We can—”

“We can pay your school fees,” Celeste said, her voice trembling. “We can finally pay your school fees.”

Luis threw his arms around her.

“We’re going to be okay,” he said.

Celeste hugged him tightly.

For the first time in a long time, she believed it.

—

Bennett’s Mansion – Morning

Duane woke up first.

The morning light streamed through the sheer curtains, casting soft shadows across the room. He sat up slowly, careful not to disturb his injured arm.

Ivory was still asleep. Her hair was spread across the pillow, her face relaxed, her lips slightly parted.

He looked away quickly.

He didn’t know why he felt like he was intruding.

He stood up, grabbed his clothes, and walked toward the bathroom.

—

Ivory was still half-asleep when her maid entered.

“Ms. Bennett,” she said softly. “It’s time to get ready for work.”

Ivory groaned. She pulled the blanket over her head.

“Five more minutes,” she mumbled.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. Your schedule is full today. You have to get up.”

Ivory sighed dramatically and sat up.

She rubbed her eyes. Then she swung her legs out of bed and walked toward the bathroom.

She didn’t knock.

She didn’t think she needed to.

The door swung open.

Duane was standing in the shower.

Ivory’s eyes went wide. Her brain short-circuited.

Thank God he was still in his boxer.

He was soaked from head to toe. Water dripped down his chest, his arms, his stomach. His muscles were clearly defined, his skin golden brown.

Ivory screamed.

Duane looked at her. “WHAT?!”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN HERE?!”

“SHOWERING!”

“IN MY BATHROOM?!”

“WHERE ELSE WOULD I SHOWER?!”

Ivory stumbled backward. She slammed the door and collapsed against her bed, breathing hard.

“Ok, Ivy,” she muttered to herself. “What did you almost see? Damn.”

She touched her chest.

She hated it.

—