Page 25 of Ruling Scar
I’m amazed at myself for keeping the normal pins and needles of my anxiety at bay.
“Your dress is really pretty,” he says after thanking the waiter for bringing more wine.
“Thanks.” The simple, tight, black dress reminds me of Adeline. Not so much because of her style, but because I think I’m starting to feel her confidence. I feel put together and pretty.
“Did you wear it for me?”
I tell myself the candle flame on the table is warm enough to heat my cheeks.
Is this what people talk about? Attraction. Something grows in my belly. A wanting.
It withers and dies when he leans forward and says, “And the panties you’re wearing? Are those for me too?”
I’ve read the literature. All the dark romances. There’s nothing inherently wrong with the sentence, but the candle flame dances in his eyes, painting an eerie reflection.
The smile that’s been on my face all night slips.
Leopold’s still. Too still. And his eyes aren’t warm and friendly, a glaring difference from the sunshine he exuded one second earlier.
His hand moves over the table, running a finger across my arm. “I think I’d prefer it if you took them off right now.”
My cheeks warm and not in a good way. It’s more of an icky,what the hell is this?I feel like I keep glitching. A record’s scratched. His dirty talk isn’t subtle. It’s over the top and creepy and I don’t know where it’s coming from.
Especially when Leopold looks me in the eye and says, “We’re going to get married, Lennie. Do you know that?”
“W-what are you talking about?”
His finger glides up and down my arm, which I can’t move. He went from cute lion cub to predator.
And he’s looking at me like I’m his next meal.
“You’re an Akatov,” he says and my face grows hotter. It always circles back to my last name. “And I’m a Stuart. Why do you think I came back to the city?”
I’m starting to figure out it’s not for the tourist attractions.
“My family and yours,” he darkly muses. “That’s the future.”
I don’t know how I do it, but I lean forward, trying to emulate Adeline’s bored, sarcastic tone. “I’m sorry but I’ve never heard of the Stuarts.”
Leopold’s never kept his wealth a secret. Everyone at college knew he came from money. From what I understand his grandparents live in England, but he was raised in the US.
I never caught any indication, though, that the Stuarts lurked in the dark like my family.
“We’re expanding,” he explains.
“Here?”
Dad doesn’t talk business at home, but I know whatever the hell Leopold’s talking about is complete bullshit. Making a power move into the city won’t go over well.
He smirks like he’s reading my mind. “Everyone always says the Russian’s have a superiority complex.”
I move my hand, but he grabs it, keeping it pressed between the table and his. It’s a small move, meant to remind me of my place. I get it because the alarm bells go off.
The mask Leopold wore is all a lie. What scares me is how long he wore it.
Throughout college, I never spotted the monster.
How long have the Stuarts played this game?
