Page 22 of Vicious Sentiments

Julian is frowning as I spear another stuffed mushroom into my mouth.

“Do you have any ideas on what you would like to do foryourbirthday?” he says this nonchalantly and swirls the wine in his glass.

Even though I’m feeling relaxed, I wouldn’t dare tell him what I would like for my birthday. I can see in his eyes, with my own tipsy eyes, that he would make it happen. No matter what it is. I can feel it. The way he’s fed me every juicy, tender bit of the steak and refilled my glass. He would make every dream of mine come true. But maybe that’s the wine.

He’s leaning in, waiting.

I could ask for anything.

But my mind doesn’t know what I would like. I’ve never had options. Mermaid make-up artists? I couldn’t dream that up in a million years.

“Tell me,” he probes. “Tell me, and I’ll make it happen tonight. I won’t make you wait till your birthday.”

I knew it.

Suddenly, I’m leaning in as well, his cologne reaching me, his eyes earnest and sincere. Maybe I’ve had too much wine. He’s addicting to look at. I can’t look away.

“Anything you want. I’ll make it happen,” he purrs, coming closer, and slipping a hand onto the table.

The only thing I can think that I want is him. I picture stepping, maybe clumsily, out of my side of the booth and curling in on his side. Nestling next to him, his warm body cocooning me. I could fall asleep, relaxed and safe, and watch the sunrise on the beach through the glass windows. I might be brave enough too, with the wine swirling through me, giving me power.

I eye his hand on the table, palm up, and I reach out. First my finger tips grazing his and then slowly sinking down into his grip.

He doesn’t hesitate as he wraps my hand in his and smooths histhumb over my wrist. A warm tingle spreads up my arms and into my chest.

The hushed murmurs of the restaurant are suddenly pierced by a loud voice. “I can’t. I’m not going to just stand by.”

Pulled from my trance, I look up, and Julian’s hand tightens around mine. The woman with the scowl from earlier is pushing her chair back and throwing her napkin on the table.

The other two women with her shake their heads before looking directly at me, sympathy painted on their faces. I don’t understand why, even as the woman who stood up from the table is headed our way. Her lips are pursed and her eyes narrowed.

I try to glance at Julian; see if he’s aware of what I’m seeing, but my eyes are ripped back to the woman as she approaches our table.

“What you’re doing is disgusting,” she snaps down at us. “Did you pay for her? Where’d you get her? Nowhere legal, I bet.”

Her? As in me? I try to pull my hand out of Julian’s, but he doesn’t let go. His brows are perked in amusement at the woman but his jaw is saying annoyance.

“Men like you are the reason our daughters aren’t safe,” she seethes, bending over and leaning on the table. She stares at our entwined hands and sneers. “She’s a child, for god’s sake.”

The woman is screeching, drawing attention from other guests. I see our waiter and other servers appear from around a corner. There’s what looks to be a chef with a dish rag in his hands too, gawking over the shoulder of a waitress.

The wine and food turn to poison in my stomach, my mind sobering dizzyingly fast. I dip my head, hiding my face behind my hair and use my free hand to tuck the dress back between my thighs.

“I don’t even know what kind of establishment this is, letting you plow her full of alcohol. Does it make it better for you? Being able to take advantage of a helpless girl,” she huffs, out of breath.

“Are you finished?” Julian drawls. “You are causing quite the scene.”

I’m surprised by the cool tone of his voice while I try to shrink into myself.

“I’ve sat right there.” She points at her abandoned table. “All night, forced to watch your sickening little rendezvous. It’s dark in here but not dark enough to hide what you do to her. You think you’re some big shot—”

“You’re embarrassing your dinner guests.” Julian motions to the other two women she was with, who seem to be gathering their purses.

“You’re the one that should be embarrassed. What kind of man has to manipulate a young girl and dress her up like a whore.”

Julian tears his hand from mine and then the table is banged. Every plate, glass, and piece of silverware rattles with the force of his fist slamming down on it.

The woman jumps back, clutching her chest.

---