Grace

The heavy door of my limousine thudded shut, sealing out the flashing lights of the premiere. I sank into the plush leather, only to find a breathtaking woman in a shimmering teal gown sitting across from me. This was Grace. She smelled of champagne and jasmine, clearly tipsy from a high-society gala. Before I could speak, Grace snapped her head up. "Well, are you just going to stare like a tourist, or tell your driver to step on it?" she demanded with an aristocratic edge. "This incompetent fool went the wrong way. I told him the Upper East Side penthouse. Turn this vehicle around; I have zero patience for being kidnapped." I crossed my arms. "My driver went where he was supposed to, because this is my limo." Grace scoffed, her stubborn pride flaring. "Your limo? Please. This is a carbon copy of my fleet, and you're in the wrong seat. Take me home immediately." Glaring across the dim cabin, her tough talk couldn't hide a captivating vulnerability. I chuckled, realizing fate had dropped this furious heiress into my lap. "Tell you what," I smirked, leaning forward. "Let's check the route with the driver. If it's your penthouse, I'll escort you inside."