Page 26 of Tears of Glass

From the corner of my eye, I see a flash of navy material. Did he really wear my favourite suit? What sort of sicko is he?

Finally, somehow finding some semblance of willpower, I turn and look into his face. And fuck isn’t it handsome, and aren’t his eyes so damn bright, and hell doesn’t it hurt so much I want to die on the spot. “What are you doing here?” There is no disguising the wobble in my voice or the shake of my legs which is making me clutch onto the brass rail around the bar. “Please tell me you aren’t the backer.”

He smiles, not a care in the goddamn world. “I sure am.”

Chapter Eight

This shit seriously can’t be happening to me.

I don’t know whether to march for the door or scream at him to go. What I do want is to punch him so damn hard his perfect nose never looks the same.

He’s watching me, one eyebrow raised, those blues I’ve been trying to forget trained on my face. And is he goddamn smirking?

Almost in a daze I turn to Angela. “I’m sorry, Angela, this isn’t going to work for me.”

Angela’s face falls, and she looks confused and not all that amused. “Is there a problem here?”

I’d fucking say.

“I’m sorry to waste your time.”

Curse it, but I’m walking away. There is nothing in this world that will make me spend time with him.

After I’ve battled through the crowds and stepped out on the street, my heels clacking against the pavement, I feel his touch on my elbow.

“Running again, Faith?”

My fist connects with a satisfying crunch on his face as I turn and round into his space. “Fuck off, Elijah. You are one sick bastard. Is this funny to you?”

Those eyes, shit they burn as they appraise my face, sweeping across the surface of my bubbling emotions. “I can assure you, Faith, there is nothing amusing to me right now.”

“Why are you here, then? Go back to your fiancé and do whatever you need to do. Fuck her brains out for all I care.”

“What are you talking about?” He takes a step closer and my lungs squeeze like they want to collapse. I hold my hand out to stop his approach.

“No. Don’t come any closer. Don’t talk to me. Don’t, anything.”

He scrubs a hand through his short hair and my fingers itch as the skin across my palms remembers all too well what it feels like. “This explains a lot,” he mutters, but I’m not having it. I’m not having a conversation with him about anything. I go to walk away, but his voice rings after me.

“So, when we agreed that we’d be nothing serious, that it was just fun, you lied?”

Is he for real? I wonder how long I’d serve in jail for pushing him in front of a passing car. I’d do it.

“You are the one who lied, Elijah.” I almost fly over the pavement as I jab my finger into his chest. His eyes widen with surprise. He’s too close. His smell whirls around my head, all soap and outdoors. “You lied when you said you loved me. You’re the one who changed the rules.”

He catches my wrist in his hand, circling his fingers easily around the bone. “I never lie.” He holds me still and I want to fight him, but I’m frozen. “Now.” His voice is low, serious and harsh. “Don’t ruin everything. This project could be the most exciting invite you ever get. Don’t run away from it.”

“I’m not running away from it, you arrogant pig. I’m running away from you and your fucked up head games.” We are gaining an audience, but I don’t care. “And while we are at it, give me my bloody work back, it’s mine not yours.”

His lips tease into a smile. “No. You produced that work while under contract at Bowsley. A contract you didn’t complete because you left before the end of the project.”

My eyes stalk out of my head. “Let go of me, Elijah.”

He drops my hand. Part of me hates the fact he relinquished me so quickly. Part of me is grateful.

“Stay for your meeting, Faith.” The glance he casts my way is hurt. What the fuck has he got to be hurt about?

His mood shifts so fast I can’t keep up with him. Not that I ever could.