Page 101 of Drawn Together

I felt his breath against my cheek, making the hairs on my arms stand on end.

“The old you, the dangerous heartbreaker who drives a hundred miles an hour on the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway? Would the old you be less afraid to touch me or kiss me or say dirty things in my ear? Because I wouldn’t mind seeing that Sebastian again.”

“Believe me,” he said, his lips so close to mine they were almost touching, “you wouldn’t be able to handle that Sebastian even if I gave you lessons.”

He abruptly released my hand and stepped away, thenpressed the elevator button again for it to begin moving. I stood behind him, trying to keep my heart from beating out of control. He went straight to the car without looking in my direction, and we rode in moody silence for the twenty minutes it took to get to the Plaza Hotel.

They knew me at the Plaza, since I often met my father there when he came to the city. Brunch was served at The Palm Court—inside, not outside, due to the weather—with spectacular views of Central Park and the surrounding buildings. Gorgeous, ostentatious, extra, possibly, but that was my life, especially around my father. I was used to it.

My father spotted me as soon as I stepped out of the elevator and entered the restaurant. He walked over to me with a wide smile.

Why the hell was he so happy?

“You look lovely, as always,” he said, kissing me on either cheek.

I smiled in response as he nodded dryly in Sebastian’s direction. I shot Sebastian a glance as well, but he was in poker-face mode: He transmitted absolutely nothing.

My father put his arm around my shoulders and guided me to a table. Only a couple feet in, and I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw who was already there, waiting for us.

Boom, boom, boom. My heart pounded in my ears, as if trying to remind me I was strong and healthy and I could run away if I needed to.

“You remember Marcus.”

My legs continued propelling me forward of their own accord, even as Marcus Kozel pushed back his chair and stood up with a smirk as he leaned in to greet me.

What the hell was he doing here? Why had my father invited him? Didn’t he know what his friend’s son had tried to do to me?

I looked at Sebastian, whose eyes showed what he felt: rage. His fists were tightly clenched at his sides and his lips were pressed into a hard, thin line. But he just stood to one side, observing the scene.

“You’re even more beautiful than the last time I saw you,” Marcus whispered in my ear, and I swear I almost vomited right then and there, on the immaculate carpet.

My shock and discomfort were obvious, but my father simply pulled out my chair and remained standing until I sat. The plates were empty, but their glasses were full; they had been drinking whiskey.

“It’s nice to see you. How is school going?” my father asked me cordially.

I was so overwhelmed that I answered with a simple “Fine” as the waiter came to take our orders. “I’m not hungry,” I said coldly, recovering slightly from the unpleasant sensation of seeing that asshole again. This was the same guy who had tried to force himself on me, the same guy who hadn’t stopped harassing me with flowers and cards every day since I’d returned to New York.

“Bring her blueberry pancakes,” Marcus instructed the waiter. “You have to eat,” he added, turning to fix his glacial gaze on me.

Just then, my father took his cell phone out of his pocket. “I need to make a quick call. Start without me. I’ll be right back,” he said, leaving the table.

I watched as he stopped beside Sebastian and they exchanged a few words. Then, throwing me an uneasy glance that I didn’t know how to interpret, Sebastian followed him out of the restaurant.

“Have you enjoyed the flowers I’ve been sending you?” Marcus asked, taking my hand.

I yanked it away. “Don’t touch me.”

Marcus smiled, unfazed by my hostility. Of course not. He knew what he’d done, although it didn’t seem to matter much to him. “Come on, Marfil,” he said, raising his glass to his lips. “It’s time you forgive me, don’t you think?”

“You forced yourself on me,” I said firmly.

“I did no such thing,” he replied calmly. “I kissed you. It’s not the end of the world.”

“You ripped my shirt open. You wouldn’t let me go. You tried to rape me.”

“Don’t be childish,” he said in a serious tone, seemingly affected by my words. “Do you really think I’d do something like that? I just wanted to get a look… It’s not such a big deal. It’s like test-driving a car before buying it.”

My eyes bulged with rage, and I moved to stand, but Marcus was quicker and dug his fingernails into my wrist.