Page 43 of Never Tell Lies

"Perhaps we have brought your food at the wrong time?"

I waited for Alfie to answer, but he just sat there, boring holes into me and looking like he was about to smash the place up.

"Not at all. We're just having a little disagreement, that's all."

"Ah," he nodded. "Quand l'amour est satisfait, tout son charme disparaît," he said and disappeared back into the kitchen, taking the maitre d' with him. I looked at Alfie.

"What the hell does that mean?" I asked.

"’When love is satisfied all charm disappears.’"

I opened my mouth to point out that we most definitely were not in love, but he spoke first.

"When did you last speak to him?"

Great. We were still on Adam. "Like I said, about a year ago. At my house, when we called the police." He nodded but didn't look any happier. Our food remained untouched between us, unwanted guests at a two person party.

“Give me his last name. I’ll ensure he doesn’t bother you again.”

I searched his face to see if he was joking. He wasn’t. "No way. He already isn't bothering me, so just leave it alone. Besides, you have no right?—”

"I have every right. If you don't tell me, then I'll just find out for myself,” he challenged, clearly thinking I would cave in.

I took a cool sip of my wine, folded my arms, and sat back in my seat. “Go for it.”

His nostrils flared. His jaw clenched. Alfie Tell was not a man who was used to being denied anything.

“Fine.” He snatched up his cutlery and began carving into his meal, his knife screeching against the plate. I didn’t join him. Between my miserable walk down memory lane and reliving my crazy-ex drama, my appetite was completely blown.

“You aren’t eating.”

No shit.“I'm not hungry.”

“Eat, Lola.”

“Or what? You’ll spank me? I said I'm not hungry. If I don't want to eat, I won't eat.” He eyed me, giving me a moment tostew in my own juices. Anger was sitting heavy in my chest, it took about a minute to make its way out of my mouth. “You know, most people would have said they were sorry I’d had to deal with a shitty boyfriend, not treated me like it was my own fault.”

“I didn’t say it was your fault,” he answered evenly, continuing with his dinner as if everything was all fine and dandy.

“You’re acting like it is.”

“You’re projecting, Lola.” He looked me up and down with that x-ray vision of his that always made me feel naked. “You're embarrassed that you let yourself be treated badly and you’re taking it out on me.”

I stared at him, my mouth open. I didn’t know what was infuriating me more, the fact that he was being so callous, or the fact that he might be right.

“You know what? Every time you open your mouth, I like you less than I did before.” I expected anger from him, but the wry smile he gave me set off a gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“You’d be surprised how often dislike and desire go hand in hand.” He gazed at me, his candlelit eyes searing my skin.

“So, you don’t care if I don’t like you?”

“Why would you like me? I’m not a likeable man. Besides, you might not like me, O’Connell, but you do want me.”

“And how can you be so sure of that?”

“Because your cunt is aching for me.” My mouth fell open again and everything south clenched. He tilted his head just a little, eyeing me. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Stop it,” I breathed, but he just smirked at me.

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