Page 129 of Love What's Left
Then my brain catches up with the clues around me. “Do you own this place?”
“Yes.”
I narrow my eyes. “And the waitress . . . ?”
“Cat? She’s worked here for five years. Her dad is the head chef. She started when she was still in high school. Great kid.”
Well . .. okay. That’s sweet, actually. I scoop two potatoes off his plate and add them to mine. He slices off a generous portion of his chicken and reaches across to deposit it on my plate. Fair is fair. That’s how much he took from my dinner.
He ladles two more pieces of potato onto my plate. “Interest.”
I take a sip of water.
“So, how was your week?” he asks politely.The prick.
“I haven’t spoken to you in thirteen days. You didn’t show up last week to harass me,” I say, then shut my mouth because that comment gave away way too much.
He freezes, watching me with an intensity that makes me squirm. “True. I was busy working on a project for MPD. It was all-hands-on-deck trying to meet a deadline. I didn’t think you’d mind getting a break from me for a couple weeks.”
He’s referring to the property development company he inherited around seven years ago. I offer him a disbelieving huff. “If you say so.”
His eyes dance. “I’m surprised you didn’t lurk in my living room and pounce on me when you didn’t hear from me.”
“I did that one time, under special circumstances. And you’re lucky I did because you could barely stand by yourself.”
He shrugs. “I’m just saying, you sound like you missed me.”
“I didn’t miss you. I happened to notice you didn’t show up . . . or call to say you weren’t going to show up. It’s not the same thing.”
“If you say so,” he parrots back and picks up his water glass.
“I want to sever my contract early,” I blurt.
He sets the glass back on the table, his expression flattening. “No.”
I swallow and ignore the way my heart betrays me with a grateful little squeeze at his denial. “Am I supposed to suffer for your mistake the rest of my life?”
He shiftsforward, planting a muscled forearm on the table. My attention catches on the inked skin exposed by his rolled-up sleeve. The black line drawings of all my favorite flowers highlight the defined muscles and veins. I’d color the Gerbera daisy pink and yellow today.
“You’re not suffering. Try again.”
I straighten my spine and speak in a firm voice. “I mean it, Gabriel. I quit. I don’t want to work for you, anymore.”
He narrows his eyes. “You don’t work for me. You work for my father, whom you chose to annoy, until he passed your care and feeding on to me.”
Well, I didn’t expect him to send his son to be my keeper. “Thank you for referring to me as the class pet. I can’t tell you how special it makes me feel.”
Gabriel’s gaze slides down my upper body, then back up again. “I don’t think schools keep pets that bite.”
“But you do?”
His answer is a wicked smile. “Just you, Walsh. Only. Ever. You.”
I take a fortifying breath and reach for calm. “Let me out of the contract early. Then you can stop your weekly inspections, and we can both get on with our lives. You know I’ll never tell anyone what I know. I shouldn’t be any different than any other team member at this point. I’ll find a job somewhere else, and you can continue”—I wave my hand vaguely—“doing whatever it is you do when you’re not bothering me.”
Voice dark and smooth as chocolate, he leans in over the table for two. “None of Dad’s other team members started her tenure with a threat to tattle to the FBI if she didn’t get her way. You signed a ten-year contract in Research and Development at your own request, you little blackmailer. You don’t get to back out three years early now.”
I look around to be sure no one is close enough to hear us, though I’m sure Gabriel already did. “I meant ten years if I wanted it, not if you did. And I didn’t blackmail you. You bribed me.”
