CHAPTER FOURTEEN
It’s good Stone gotup and left me alone at the table. I need the reminder that he’s a heartless asshole. We put on a show. There are stares, whispers, and quite a few phones out snapping our picture.
I’m not sure how I’m supposed to act now. Annoyed that he left? Lovesick and impatiently waiting for the love of my life to return? I don’t have to play everything his way. I have to trust I’m safe. I’m too important to his plan.
I scan the restaurant and see no sign of him. When a waitress walks by, I stop her. “Mi scusi? Dov'e` la toilette?”
The waitress points in the direction of the restroom.
“Grazie.” I dab the corner of my mouth with my napkin and set it next to my untouched tiramisu.
I don’t miss the stares as I saunter through the restaurant. I even make a show of my ring by lightly scratching my cheek so everyone can see the bling. When I reach the bathroom, I let out an exhale.
“Ciao,” an attendant says from the sitting area.
“Ciao,” I reply as I continue to the lavatory.
What a ridiculous job to stand in a lavatory and hand women towels after they wash their hands. Being on both ends of the wealth status, I can appreciate these types of jobs for the easy money, even if they are completely unnecessary.
I use the toilet and wash my hands. The attendant is there in an instant with a cool towel.
“Grazie.” After drying my hands, I open my clutch and take out my lipstick. I don’t care about reapplying it, but it gives me something to do while I stall for time. After another coat of mascara and a quick finger-comb of my hair, I roll back my shoulders, prepared for the march of shame back to my lonely table.
“Where the hell have you been?” Stone’s angry, gruff voice demands as he wraps his hand around my forearm and backs me into the wall.
How dare he command me to sit then bark at me when I don’t. I no longer care about being prim and proper. The low-class diner waitress in me comes out. “Um, the bathroom. I had to pee, as you can see from the door I just exited.” I roll my eyes.
“I came back to an empty table and felt foolish sitting there all alone.”
“Really? Is that how you felt?”
“Yes,” he grits out between clenched teeth, clearly not getting the irony.
“You mean being abandoned by your fiancé in the middle of a romantic dinner the night before your wedding made you feel foolish? A fanabla.” Go to hell.
I tear my arm away from his grip and march back to our table. I know I’ll get an earful when we get back to the limo. He won’t want to cause a scene here. I sit down and pick up my spoon, fully intending to enjoy my dessert.
“We’re leaving.”
“When I’m done.” I dig in and scoop up a generous mound of tiramisu, and moan the second it hit my tastebuds. “You should try a bite. It might take the edge off. Help loosen that rod, you know?”
Stone holds out his hand like he wants me to take it. “We’re leaving.” The vein. It is back.
“Can I get a doggy bag?”
“Doggy?”
The vein and the eyebrow. This is different. This is dangerous.
He leans close to my ear and whispers, “Do what I say.”
I open my mouth to give him all the sass I have but he cuts me off with another whisper.
“Now. Trust me.”
Warning bells go off. Lorenzo. Antonio. Is that what his call was about? Is that why he overreacted to me using the bathroom? I’ve been so caught up in the ambiance and being able to make Stone laugh that I completely forgot what kind of danger I’m in.
I let my spoon clatter to the table and take his hand. We don’t rush out of the restaurant like we’re being chased. Instead, Stone’s gait is slow and leisurely. I swear, we go the long way just to make sure everyone sees us together.