Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
As we sit here, I notice a few women in the restaurant casting smiles in Oliver’s direction. Their gazes linger a little too long, and I can’t help but feel a twinge of something—jealousy, maybe? No. Curiosity.
“Do you know them?” I ask, trying to keep my tone light, but the question hangs between us like a challenge.
Oliver shifts in his seat, a slight flush creeping up his neck as he shakes his head from side to side. “No… not really,” he says, his voice a touch too quick. He waves his hand dismissively. “Just one of my new employees.”
“Ah, I see,” I reply, though I’m not entirely convinced.
I glance at the woman he mentioned—she’s stunning, with the kind of beauty that turns heads effortlessly. And even from across the room, I can feel the tension between her and Oliver. It’s subtle but undeniable, like an undercurrent that neither of them can completely hide.
“Want to get out of here?” Oliver asks me in a rush, his voice tinged with urgency.
My eyes widen in surprise. Yes. The word echoes in my mind, loud and clear. I’ve been dying to escape this place since the moment I spotted Tripp, his presence making the air around me feel suffocating. But hearing Oliver suggest it now, out of the blue, feels strange—like he’s sensed something off too. “We haven’t even gotten our food yet,” I reply, my voice hesitant as I try to make sense of the situation.
Oliver looks nervous, his eyes darting around the room as if he’s searching for an escape route of his own. Just as he opens his mouth to respond, a shadow looms over our booth. I glance up, my heart sinking as I realize it’s Tripp, standing there with an unreadable expression on his face.
“Santa Fe Chicken Salad,” Tripp announces, placing the large salad in front of me with a flourish. His tone is laced with a mockery that makes my skin prickle. He winks at me, a sly smile playing on his lips. “A little bunny eating her salad.”
My cheeks flush with a mix of embarrassment and irritation, but before I can say anything, Tripp turns his attention to Oliver. “And for the man in charge, a steak,” he declares, setting down the plate with a heavy thud. His voice takes on a bravado, exaggerated and almost taunting. “Man eats steak.”
The tension is thick, and I can feel the weight of the unspoken challenge in the air. Tripp’s eyes flicker between us, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, as if he’s won some kind of twisted game. Oliver shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his earlier confidence visibly shaken, and I’m left wondering just how much worse this night is going to get.
“Thanks,” Oliver says, his voice calm as he picks up his cutlery. He slices into his steak with deliberate precision, pointedly ignoring Tripp’s taunts. His attempt to stay composed is evident, though there’s a slight tension in the set of his jaw. As he cuts into the steak, his gaze drifts over my shoulder, briefly locking onto the new employee—the beautiful woman who’s been casting glances our way. “This is perfect,” he adds, though his tone lacks enthusiasm as he returns his attention to his plate, forcing himself to focus on the meal in front of him.
The weight of the situation is too much, the tension too thick to cut through. “I have to go to the restroom,” I mutter, pushing back my chair with a little more force than necessary. I can’t stand to sit here any longer, under Tripp’s watchful eye and Oliver’s uneasy attempts to maintain control. I stand up quickly, my movements sharp, and without waiting for a response, I bolt toward the restrooms near the bar.
My heart pounds as I make my way down the dimly lit hallway, the noise of the restaurant fading into the background. Just as I’m about to push open the door to the women’s room, Tripp steps in front of me, blocking my path. His sudden presence startles me, and I stop short, my breath catching in my throat.
“What are you doing?” I demand, my voice shaky as he corners me, his body pressing me back against the cold wall. The hallway is dim and narrow, the flickering light casting shadows that make the space feel even more confined. There’s nobody around, just the two of us, and the air between us crackles with unspoken tension.
Tripp’s eyes darken, his expression hardening as he leans in closer. “I don’t like seeing you with that tool out there,” he growls, his voice low and possessive as if the mere thought of me being with someone else is enough to set him off.
I bristle at his words, anger flaring up inside me. With a sharp motion, I poke a pink-tipped nail into his chest, my gaze locked on his. “Well, you’re the one who told me to go out with him,” I snap back, my voice challenging. “So don’t act like this is any of your business now.”