Page 35 of Lovers Fate

While I wait for my food, I scroll through the music selection on the jukebox to keep me busy. I have two more credits to use, so why not?

I flip through the seventies and smile when I find the eighties section, ignoring the sound from the front door when someone enters.

I press “Cold Hearted” by Paula Abdul, and the air washes out of my lungs when I look up. Not because of the server currently placing my plate on the table. My attention is on two women and a tall man who walked in.

My mystery clown of horror and his ladies. But today he isn’t wearing makeup. He’s wearing a black sweater. His boots thud against the black-and-white tiles when he walks close toward the screen of the register. The redhead leans close, licks her red-painted lips as she scans the menu on the screen. The one with white hair glances at me. Her black-painted lips lift into a wide smile, flashing me her pearly white teeth when she recognizes me from the club.

The redhead glances at me for a second. Then she moves closer and slides her hands around his waist, facing me, making her point. His back is turned toward me, causing the black material to stretch to its limit, obscuring his face from my view.The redhead is tiny compared to his impressive height. She has to tilt her head slightly to the side so that she can glare at me.

This is about last night at the club. Her hands slide to his ass, staking her claim.

If I was wondering if he’s taken, I have my answer. Mission accomplished, sweetheart. He’s all yours.

His rejection makes sense now, and I won’t look his way again. I gaze at the butter knife on the table, conjuring up sinister thoughts. The things I could do to her using the butter knife.

“Pity,”a little voice says in my head.

I blink the thought from my head.He isn’t mine.

“Will that be all for you, sugar?” The server asks, grabbing my attention.

“Yes,” I reply, with a weak smile drawing his attention as he turns to face me.

Our gazes clash, his eyes dark like the sky with no light. My heart gallops in my chest. Time pauses, or it skips. I’m not sure, but I can’t look away. His eyes hold me in place, ensnaring me like he’s locking me inside a gilded cage for his own pleasure.

The redhead moves in front, blocking his line of sight, rising on the tips of her toes to whisper something I can’t hear because of the music.

He looks down at her, then up at me with an antagonistic stare.

He’s gorgeous without his makeup, with sculpted cheekbones, white skin, a straight nose, and pitch-black hair long on the top—messy, but it works for him.Tattoos cover his neck, his nose piercing adds to his appeal, and his full lips are tinted red.

When he blinks, black lashes kiss his cheeks. The tops of his hands are inked. His nails painted black when he pulls at the sleeves of his sweater.

His eyes dip to the redhead. His mouth moves quickly. She stiffens, steps back, and storms out, pushing the door with more force than necessary, causing it to slam closed.

I don’t miss the way his hand curls into a fist when I finally look away and begin to eat my food.

When the song ends, I catch the last words the blond girl says to him, “You know how she gets.”

I wait for him to respond, my ears straining to hear his voice, but I’m disappointed. He doesn’t say a word.

The temptation is too strong not to look up to see his expression or if he’s still staring at me. When I raise my head, a furious glare hits me like a punch to the stomach, making me flinch.

Dropping my napkin, I slide out of the booth, rushing to the women’s restroom, hopinghe’ll leave by the time I return.

Once I’m inside, I lean back on the door, my chest rising and falling like I’m hyperventilating. I walk into the stall, not needing to pee but wanting a place to hide and collect my thoughts. I can’t think when he’s around. Music begins to play through the overhead speakers, and I almost want to cry out in frustration as “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails plays, and for some reason, I know it was him who selected it.

The bathroom door swings open, followed by the loud thud of boots on the bathroom tiles, causing my heart to race when the stall next to mine is pushed open and the latch slides into place.I let out a deep breath and count to three in my head before opening the stall door.

It’s a woman. That’s not him.

You’re seeing shit, Athena. You think it’s him, but it can’t be. Who would look for a girl they don’t want in a restroom at a diner?

I convince myself that I’m overreacting as I slide the latch open and step out. Suddenly, the door to the stall next to mineopens, pushing me against the wall and forcing the air out of my lungs in a whoosh.

A large hand covers my mouth. My eyes widen and I’m smothered by his scent clean and exotic.

“It’s dangerous to walk out alone this time of year,” he says darkly.

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