Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 142764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Inside, we’re greeted by a hostess. The lights are low, and the sound of piano music filters in through the speakers.
It’s beautiful and fancy as fuck.
For once, I feel appropriately dressed, if not a little self-conscious as I feel people's eyes raking across my bare skin. My arms, shoulders, and legs are all exposed, and the dress hugs every inch of my skin tightly. Drew doesn’t appear to notice their gawking stares and skims his hand down my spine as he speaks with the hostess.
“Right this way, Mr. and Mrs. Marshall.”
The woman smiles, and I open my mouth to tell her we’re not married but then think better of it. I’m sure it was an accident. The woman guides us to the left of the restaurant into an area that looks like it’s been roped off for private parties or high end guests. Drew’s hand on my lower back grounds me, and once we’re in the room, the hostess disappears.
The strange feeling is still there, but I ignore it and give him a smile, allowing him to pull the chair out for me. I scoot into the table, my gaze sweeping the room. It’s beautiful with the lights dimmed, candles lit, and a bouquet of roses on the table.
I look away from the decor and right at Drew. Where I expect to see a smile, I find a face that is closer to that of a man who wants to throw up.
What is wrong with him?
He takes the chair opposite of me, and I keep my smile in place even as I slump at the fact he didn't take the seat right next to me. It's not a huge table, but it feels big enough that he seems far away. I try to ignore the bad feeling festering in my gut and put my attention elsewhere.
"This entire place is beautiful and amazing. I’m happy that you brought me here, but what made you choose this place?”
He sucks in a sharp breath and snaps his napkin out to place it across his lap.
"Fuck, Maybel, am I going to have to explain every decision I make to you from now on?"
I blink slowly and swallow around the lump of emotion in my throat.
"Wha-What?"
He shakes his head, and I watch the muscles along his jaw jump as he grits his teeth.
“Just… let’s have a good night,” he says, his voice a little softer.
I’m bewildered by the change in his attitude but don’t get the chance to comment on it because the server comes in right then. She brings a pitcher of water with her and fills our cups, then follows with red wine.
I breathe through my nose and remind myself that while I’m not taking any more of Drew’s shit, I also want us to be a team. We can’t do that if my first thought is to always fire back and be on the offensive.
“Have a good night?” I question. “This was your idea, and now you’re sitting across from me acting as if you’re pissed that you brought me here in the first place.”
What the hell is happening here?
Even when he's been mean, cruel, he's never...like this. Not to me at least. It’s a red flag. Something is off, wrong.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
As he watched me from across the table, I can feel his eyes sweeping a fiery path over my skin. I see something that resembles panic shining in his eyes. What’s going on? What is he not telling me? The desire to flee to that safe place in my mind is difficult to fight against but I do it.
I push out of my chair and stand beside the table. “Drew. I need you to talk to me. I know something is wrong.”
The door behind us opens, and I twist in my seat. My entire body becomes one frozen block when I realize who walked in. It’s not the server that comes through the door but Drew's father.
He saunters into the room in his twenty thousand dollar suit, his hair slicked back, his eyes hard and unwavering. "Well, isn't this cozy? You two are finally taking the time to get to know each other the proper way?”
The proper way? He’s kidding, right?
It all makes sense now. The puzzle pieces glide into place, and while I’m angry at his father’s sudden appearance, I’m not really surprised. Putting my trust in Drew, I choose to believe that this isn’t a setup, and he didn’t go through this willingly.
After our heart-to-heart the other night, I have no doubts that this is all his father’s doing. I’m tempted to retreat into myself and scurry around the table and hide behind Drew. Especially when his father’s beady eyes sweep the length of my body, stopping at my cleavage and the short hem of my dress, but I don’t. I won’t give this fucker the satisfaction of scaring me into submission.