CHAPTER 7

Bridget Augustus's first impression of her new driver, Hans Seymour, was surprisingly good. Tall, tan, and with an intense aura that could rival any movie leading man, he seemed like someone who could command attention without trying. However, as days went by, her admiration started to wane. Hans was too calm and composed—traits that irked her, especially as someone used to people tiptoeing around her to avoid causing offense. What bothered her more was how he didn’t seem to admire her beauty or wit like most people did. Deep down, though, Bridget could sense something about him—something intriguing and hidden.

Bridget was a CEO of the K Newspapers and Magazines Company, and as one of the most well-known in the field of journalism, she really was something. She could easily sense when something was wrong or when somebody was hiding something. That was her intuition about her newly hired driver. He might be hiding something wrong.

“Can you avoid the traffic, Hans? I can’t be late!” Bridget snapped from the back seat. She busied herself adjusting her bracelets and ensuring her makeup was flawless in a small mirror. “My business partner’s flying in from a very important trip. I need to make a good impression!” she added. Her tone sure was irritated.

Hans, sitting in the driver’s seat, stayed silent. He didn’t need to turn around to feel the tension radiating from his boss. Unfortunately, traffic had other plans. He was forced to hit the brakes, jolting the car to a sudden stop.

“Ugh! Hans!” Bridget exclaimed as she bumped lightly against the backseat. Her glare could have burned a hole through his head. “Can’t you drive properly? You were impressive on your first day, but you better keep that up! Otherwise, you’re fired!”

Hans smirked faintly to himself, careful not to let it show. If you weren’t stunning, ma’am, someone might’ve tossed you into a river and let the piranhas have you. But of course, he kept that thought to himself.

“The traffic’s unavoidable, ma’am,” he replied evenly, eyes fixed on the road. “We’ll need to wait until it clears.”

That wasn’t what Bridget wanted to hear. She crossed her arms and let out a loud, frustrated sigh. “Ugh! Why is it always like this? It didn’t used to be this bad! This is so irritating!”

“There’s a funeral procession ahead, ma’am,” Hans said calmly. “At the very least, we should wait and pay our respects.”

Bridget’s eyes widened as if she couldn’t believe what he had just said. “I don’t care about their funeral procession! And why are they disrupting me of all people? Who even are they?” Her tone was laced with exasperation.

Hans remained silent, knowing better than to respond. Whatever he said would probably worsen her mood.

“Hey! Do something about this! If you can’t fix this, you’re fired tomorrow!” Bridget barked, her voice rising. “Respect-respect… even my work is being dragged into this nonsense!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Hans replied robotically. He spotted a small gap in the congested traffic and maneuvered skillfully, squeezing the car through impossible spaces. Horns blared, but Hans pressed on, determined to avoid escalating Bridget’s temper. From the back seat, Bridget looked on, her annoyance momentarily replaced by mild awe at her driver’s audacity.

“Well, that’s better,” she muttered. “Next time, just do it without waiting for me to tell you.”

Hans internally sighed. Calm down, Hans. You need this job. Think of the kids. He swallowed his pride, something he had to do often these days, and focused on the road.

After a while, Bridget leaned forward slightly, her gaze fixed on Hans through the rearview mirror. He was unnervingly quiet, and she couldn’t help but be intrigued. “You’re too quiet, Hans,” she said. “Do you even talk to anyone?”

Hans raised an eyebrow but kept his composure. “Only when necessary, ma’am.”

“Huh,” Bridget hummed, tapping her chin as if solving a mystery. “You’re kind of mysterious. Like, you’re all quiet and brooding, but deep down, I feel like you’re hiding something. Am I wrong?”

Hans didn’t respond. Instead, he focused on driving, hoping she’d drop the subject. But Bridget wasn’t one to let things go. Her curious eyes lingered on him.

“What’s your story, Hans?” she prodded. “Why’d you end up as my driver? I mean, you don’t exactly look like someone who drives for a living.”

A faint chuckle escaped Hans. “It’s a long story, ma’am. And not a particularly interesting one.”

“Ugh, you’re so boring, Hans,” Bridget groaned, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Your answers are so bland. But fine, I’ll figure it out myself eventually.”

Hans sighed softly. “You’re very persistent, ma’am.”

“Of course,” Bridget replied smugly. “That’s what makes me the best journalist.”

The traffic finally began to clear, and Hans navigated them onto a smoother path. For a moment, Bridget fell silent, her gaze shifting to the passing scenery outside. Yet, in her mind, she was still puzzling over her enigmatic driver. He’s so calm, like nothing bothers him. That just makes me want to shake him up a bit.

Hans, on the other hand, kept his thoughts focused. Why am I here? Because I need this job. That’s it. No other reason. Yet, Bridget’s incessant curiosity tugged at the edges of his mind.

They arrived at Bridget’s destination—a sleek, high-end restaurant where she was scheduled to meet her business partner. Hans pulled up to the entrance, and a valet quickly approached to take the car.

“Finally,” Bridget muttered as she adjusted her blouse and prepared to step out. “Wait for me, Hans. I won’t take long.”

Hans simply nodded, watching as she walked into the restaurant with her usual air of confidence. As she disappeared inside, he allowed himself a small, amused smile. She’s a handful, but at least she’s not boring.

While waiting, Hans’s phone buzzed. It was a call from his nephew back in the province. He stepped out of the car to answer. “Hello, Dan? Yeah, I’m still at work. Don’t worry about me, okay?”

“We miss you so much, Uncle Hans!” came a tiny voice from the other end.

“Oh, stop it, Dan, Den, and Din. Your Uncle Hans’s still working. Don’t get me in troubleness or I'll be in so much painting,” chimed in Peggy, their cousin, who always bragged about having the genes of Albert Einstein, where in fact he's just a clone trying to prove something.

Hans chuckled. “Peggy? You’re in charge while I’m away, okay? I’ll be there for Dan’s birthday. Make sure they behave.”

“Don’t worrying, pards!” Peggy replied, her tone playful. “I got this under controling! The kids are already mini-Einsteins. Genius runs in the family, you know!”

While Hans talked, he didn’t notice a pair of eyes watching him through the restaurant’s window. It was Bridget, who had just glanced out and caught sight of him. His serious demeanor during the call piqued her curiosity even more. What’s he talking about? she wondered. For the first time, Bridget found herself genuinely interested in her driver—not as an employee, but as a person.

And that intrigued her more than she cared to admit.