Hot Driver - S01 E17

Story 3 days ago

Hot Driver - S01 E17

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 17

By Goldie CJ

Ivory’s Private Residence – Night

Duane leaned in.

Then, at the last possible second, he reached past her and remove a tiny wool from her hair, it was almost invisibe , his fingers barely grazing her skin before he pulled away entirely.

Ivory, who had been holding her breath without realizing it, whose heart had been slamming against her ribs hard enough to hurt, reacted before she could stop herself.

“What—” she started, voice sharp. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“removing an unwanted wool,” Duane said simply, stepping back with maddening calm. “It was to drive you crazy. I told you my job is to drive and drive you crazy”

“You were driving me crazy,?!” Ivory snapped, straightening up off the couch, smoothing down her clothes like she could smooth away the last ten seconds along with the wrinkles.

“You don’t lean in like that just to remove an unwanted shit”

“How else am I supposed to do it? From across the room?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

Duane tilted his head, a slow, infuriating smirk spreading across his face. “Were you expecting a kiss, Ms. Bennett?”

Ivory’s face went scarlet. “Absolutely not.”

“You look like you were expecting a kiss.”

“I would rather kiss a snake,” she said, voice climbing, “than kiss you. A venomous one. With fangs. Multiple fangs.”

“Noted. I’ll be sure to warn the local snake population that they’ve got competition.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“You’re the one who looked disappointed.”
“I WAS NOT DISAPPOINTED.”

“Sure.”

“I WASN’T.”

They argued back and forth for several more minutes, circling the same accusation over and over, Ivory growing louder and more flustered with each round while Duane remained frustratingly composed, clearly enjoying every second of her unraveling.
Eventually, without ever conceding a single point, he simply turned and walked toward the door.

“Goodnight, Ms. Bennett,” he said over his shoulder, infuriatingly cheerful. “Sweet dreams. Try not to think about snakes.”

He left before she could throw something at him.

Ivory stood alone in her living room long after the door clicked shut, her hand drifting up to touch the spot behind her ear where his fingers had brushed her skin, before she caught herself and yanked it back down, disgusted with her own reaction.

“I hate him,” she muttered to the empty room. “I hate him so much.”
The room didn’t answer. It rarely did.

Bennett’s Mansion – Morning
The search for Abigail had turned up nothing.

Diana sat rigidly at the edge of the living room sofa, phone clutched in her hand, checking it every few minutes out of pure nervous habit.
Her patience, usually endless, had worn thin overnight.

Arthur paced the length of the room like a caged animal, his fury barely contained beneath the surface. “Nothing,” he growled. “A full night, half a day, and the security team has found absolutely nothing. I want Tyler’s head for this.”

“Arthur, we don’t even know what happened yet,” Diana said, though her own voice lacked its usual steadiness.

“He did something. I know he did something. My daughter doesn’t just vanish for no reason.”

Hazel sat curled on the armchair nearby, knees drawn to her chest, chewing on her thumbnail, worry etched plainly across her young face. “Do you think she’s okay? What if something actually happened to her?”

“She’s fine,” Arthur said firmly, though it sounded more like something he needed to believe than something he actually knew. “She’s a Bennett. Bennetts don’t just disappear.”

Diana’s phone buzzed. She glanced at it, hope flaring briefly, then deflating just as fast. “It’s Ivory’s assistant. Not Abigail.”

“And Ivory?” Arthur demanded. “Has anyone reached my other daughter?”

“She’s not answering,” Diana admitted. “But you know how she gets after one of your arranged dates blows up. She disappears into that private house of hers for days.

Sometimes weeks.”

“This is exactly why I don’t like her having that place,” Arthur muttered. “Unreachable, unaccounted for, off doing God knows what with that poor driver hovering around her—”

“Arthur.”

“I’m serious, Diana. That boy has some kind of hold over her. I can feel it.”

“The only hold he has over her,” Diana said tiredly, rubbing her temples, “is patience. Which you might benefit from developing yourself, given the current situation.”

Arthur didn’t respond to that, jaw tight, still pacing.
Diana finally pulled up Ivory’s contact and typed out a quick message, hoping against hope her eldest daughter would actually check her phone for once.

Abigail is missing. We need you. Please call.

She hit send and set the phone down, praying it would be enough.

An Undisclosed Hotel – Night

Maeve had been waiting nearly twenty minutes, her patience fraying with every passing second, when the bathroom door finally opened.

Mr. Dixon stepped out in nothing but a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, his graying hair still damp, a satisfied smile already forming as he caught sight of her waiting on the bed.

“Sorry for the wait,” he said smoothly. “Had to freshen up.”

Maeve didn’t waste time with pleasantries. She rose from the bed, crossed the room in a few purposeful strides, and reached out, yanking the towel away in one swift motion.

Before he could react, she pulled him toward her and kissed him hard, sealing the transaction the only way she’d planned to.

Whatever hesitation had lingered in her chest all evening, she buried it now, beneath ambition, beneath ego, beneath the singular goal of walking away from this room with the award already secured in her favor.
He fell on the bed and sge fell after him, on him lips still locked

Ivory’s Private Residence – Night

Ivory had just finished her shower, dressed in a soft silk nightie, hair still damp against her shoulders, when her phone buzzed on the nightstand.

She glanced at it, expecting nothing important, and froze.

Diana: Abigail is missing. We need you. Please call.

She read it twice, her stomach dropping, before bolting for the door without bothering to change, without bothering to grab shoes, sprinting toward the car park in nothing but her nightwear.

Duane, alerted by the sudden commotion, followed immediately, sliding behind the wheel and pulling out before she’d even fully closed the door.

“What happened?” he asked, catching sight of her panicked expression in the mirror.

“Abigail’s missing. Drive to the Rodriguez Mansion. NOW.”

He didn’t ask another question. He drove.

The moment the car screeched to a stop outside the Rodriguez estate, Ivory was already out the door, running barefoot up the front steps, bursting through the entrance without knocking.

She found Tyler in the sitting room, phone pressed to his ear, mid-conversation with someone, his voice low and tense.

Ivory didn’t wait for him to finish. She lunged at him, hand raised, fully intent on slapping the truth out of him if that’s what it took.

Duane caught her wrist mid-swing, holding it firmly, pulling her back before the blow could land.

“Where is she?!!” Ivory screamed, wrenching against his grip, though she didn’t fight it too hard. “WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY SISTER, TYLER?!”

Tyler’s face had gone pale, phone slipping from his hand entirely. “I didn’t do anything, I swear, I don’t know where she—”

“YOU BETTER FIND HER. If anything happened to her, I will end you. I will end your entire family’s business. Do you understand me?”

She kicked out at him then, catching his chin hard enough to make him yelp and stumble back, before finally turning and storming back out of the house, Duane following close behind.

They drove home in tense silence, Ivory’s chest heaving with unspent fury, her bare feet curled beneath her on the seat.

Ivory’s Private Residence – The Next Day
Ivory’s phone rang mid-morning. She answered instantly, heart in her throat.

“Ivory?”

“Abigail! Oh my God, are you okay? Where are you? We’ve all been—”

“I’m fine,” Abigail said quickly, her voice small but steady. “Please don’t worry. I just needed some space. I have to teach Tyler a lesson, that’s all. I’m safe. I promise.”

Relief flooded through Ivory so fast it nearly knocked the wind out of her. “You scared us half to death.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll explain everything soon. I just need a little more time.”

“Fine. But you call Mum. Today. She’s out of her mind with worry.”

“I will. I promise.”

The call ended, and Ivory sat there for a long moment, relief settling warm in her chest for the first time in over a day.

She got up, dressed quickly, and made her way downstairs — only to find Duane already seated at her dining table, eating breakfast with the same effortless confidence he brought to everything, like the house belonged to him rather than her.

“Comfortable?” she asked dryly, crossing her arms in the doorway.

“Extremely,” he said, not looking up from his plate. “Join me. Or continue standing there judging my table manners. Your choice.”

“I wasn’t judging your table manners. I was judging your audacity.”

“Both valid things to judge. Sit down anyway.”

She sat, muttering something under her breath about broke men with too much confidence, and reached for a plate. She took a bite without a word, still glaring at him between mouthfuls, though she didn’t complain about the food this time.

She didn’t talk. She just ate.

Brooke Residence – Same Morning

Celeste sat at the kitchen table, a notepad in front of her, sketching out rough ideas for the small business she’d been dreaming about for two days straight — maybe knitting or food stall, maybe, something simple, something hers.
Her phone buzzed against the table.
She glanced at it absently, then did a double take, snatching it up and staring at the screen.

A million naira. Deposited just moments ago.

She screamed

“holy ghost!!” — a full, unrestrained sound of pure shock — and promptly fainted, sliding out of her chair and collapsing dramatically onto the kitchen floor, passing out, the notepad fluttering down beside her.