And my suspicions are confirmed seconds later.
“Thank you,” my waiter says. “That guy’s a royal pain in the ass and he never tips more than rounding up to the nearest dollar, thinking it’s our privilege to serve a ‘celebrity.’”
“Oh, he’ll be a celebrity all right. Once those pictures hit the Internet in about five minutes his teammates will never let him live it down.”
“We can call the police and have him arrested if you’d like,” the waiter offers.
“Won't’ be necessary. The damage to his ego should be more than enough.” I pause. “Now if you’ll please excuse me.”
The waiter makes himself disappear and I lean in close to Scarlett. “You okay, little artist?”
She squeezes her lips into a small line and nods her head, but I’m not buying it. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“Remember you have to always be honest with Daddy. It’s a rule and even if it wasn’t, Daddy will find out.” I take a breath, letting that thought settle in. “Now, do you want to tell Daddy what’s wrong?”
“Am I embarrassing?”
Anger rushes through me and now I wish I really did strangle that guy until he passed out. “Nothing we do together will ever embarrass me. What we have is new, but I already know it’s perfect. You belong to me, little angel. Maybe other people won’t understand, but then again many people don’t understand a lot of things? Art, us, why you like sparkly hair clips so much…”
A smile appears out of nowhere quickly followed by her arms wrapping around my neck. I pull her onto my lap and give her a kiss on the forehead.
“Can we go home, Daddy?”
“Waiter? Check, please.”
6
Scarlett
“You don’t have to walk me to my door,” I say, but Silas completely ignores me.
He lifts me from the car as if I weigh nothing more than a body pillow and gently sets me down on my feet before escorting me toward the front steps.
“Really, it’s ok.”
I watch his eyes rake over the front of the building and the surrounding exterior.
“Punch in the code, angel.”
“The code?” I question, not sure what he’s talking about.
“To the keypad,” he motions to the numerical square close to the door.
“Landlord said it’s under repair. Watch,” I say, pushing the door open which only seems to make him angrier than he already is for some reason.
He sucks in a breath and steps into my building. “Please don’t tell me you live on the first floor?”
“Second.”
He shakes his head and we ascend the short stack of stairs together.
“Keys,” he says, when we reach my front door.
“I didn’t invite you—“