Once filled, I reach for my glass and take a mouthful of that too, sensing I’m in for one hell of a night. “You’re uncomfortable here,” Milton observes once the waiter is out of earshot. “And…twitchy.”
Sighing, I place my elbows on the table and take them off again. I, remember somewhere deep in my psyche that it’s not the proper etiquette for a fancy place like this. Thank you, Gabriella. “You know I’m not used to this.”
“You can relax.” He waves his hand. “It’s not like I’m going to strangle you before the starter has even arrived—”
“I’m not sleeping with you,” I blurt, watching his right eyebrow rise, an action I’m beginning to think he does whenever I surprise him. But I can’t help it, my earlier conversation with Bethany playing on my mind.
“Who said anything about that?” he questions, but I’m saved from answering with Harry’s return.
“Your starters,” he announces, placing small dishes in front of us, much to Milton’s aggravation with the disruption. “Hand dived scallops with truffle vinaigrette. Enjoy.”
Instead of picking up his starter fork, he suddenly grabs my leg from under the table and tugs me forward. “What are—”
Angling his body to the side, he props my foot on his lap to fix the strap that has come undone on my shoe. For a moment, I’m at a loss for words, the heat from his hand doing terrible things to my insides.
“You think I want to fuck you?” he asks, so cutthroat, it takes me a while to answer.
“I don’t know what you want.” I breathe out, his skin on mine sending spasms of electricity up my leg. “Just because I’ve handed myself over to you doesn’t mean I’m a sex toy for your enjoyment.”
“A sex toy?” His shoulders shake with silent laughter, and I flush. “Well, I don’t know where this has come from…but there’s one massive difference here.” Wrapping his fingers around my ankle, he pulls me forward until my back lifts off the chair. Capturing me around the waist, he drags me onto his lap, using the slit in my dress to his advantage to reach inside and grab my thighs.
I moan before realizing. From his touch. The closeness. God, I hate myself. What the fuck is wrong with me? His breath brushes against my face. My lips. “I don’t think you’ve ever wanted something as bad.”
His large hands caress upward, catching my hips beneath the dress in a firm grip. He jerks me forward then, his thigh causing friction against my core. The ache comes back with a vengeance as he does it again. And again. Until he has me slowly dry humping him in a restaurant and whimpering for him like he’s crack.
“Milton…” I squeeze the lapel of his jacket, needing him to stop. Not wanting him to stop.
“You’re right.” Eyes flash with amusement as he suddenly lifts me and puts me back on the chair. The loss of contact makes my body slump in gut-wrenching disappointment. “You’re not here for that.” Reaching inside his inner pocket, he pulls out a piece of paper and pen. “You aren’t eating.”
“I’ve lost my appetite,” my voice quivers as he pushes the paper and pen toward me.
“Sign it.” My hand trembles as I pick up the pen, a jumble of complicated words peering back at me. My hesitation makes him sigh. “You either want my help, or you don’t. It’s not like I wanted to consider this—”
Scribbling my name along the dotted line, I throw the pen down on the table dramatically. “Then, why did you? You could have told me no. Told me to go to hell. So why?”
“Logic,” he bites back icily, like the tension that happened between us only moments ago didn’t. “Blake has something I want, and now I have something he wants. There’s really nothing more to it.”
“Blackmail?” I dryly reply, and he shrugs offhandedly. “Then I guess it’s a pleasure doing business with you.”
“Pleasure’s all mine,” he grits out through his teeth, and I can’t bear the pain in my heart that he can be so callous. So fucking cruel and unaffected. But what did I expect?
Smothering back tears, I change the subject, “Am I to keep staying at Stonehill?”
He picks up his glass and takes a sip. “I can’t trust Nicolas will stay away from, so no, I’m moving you someplace else.”
Moving me. Like I’m nothing more than an undesired object to be picked up and placed wherever. “What about Gabriella? Dr. Rogue?”
He avoids eye contact now. “Nothing to worry yourself with.”
“I’ll need to know what to say to Gabriella when I have to do bridesmaid duties. And what about the wedding itself—”
His eyes snap up, stopping me sharp. “What do you think is happening here?”
“What do you mean?”
“Fuck sake, Heidi,” he sneers with frustration. “Must I spell it out to you? You won’t be at the wedding. You can’t be spotted outside. In fact, I believe you staying in Fair Haven—”
“I’m leaving?” My insides clench. “With you?”
Picking up his fork, he stabs a scallop and puts it in his mouth. He chews and chews and then swallows. “No,” he replies, woodenly. It doesn’t appear as though he has much of an appetite either. “Not with me. On your own.”
My heart sinks. “What about…us?”
“Us? There is no us.” Ouch. “Fortunately for you, I take what that ring on your finger means seriously. You’re protected whether I like it or not.” Lines of torment crease his face, an emotion I can’t name crossing over his eyes, making them shadowy. “When I’m around you…all I want is to hurt you.”
It takes everything to keep my composure as our conversation dies. The waiter reappears to take our dishes away, and when he comes back moments later, he’s putting another meal in front of us. “Roast chicken breast with potato puree and pine nuts. Would you like a refill, Miss?”
After nodding, he tops up my glass and leaves. I take a drink, already feeling the effect
