Page 33 of Monster
“I guess I am. I’ve noticed you respond far better to it.”
“Yes, it’s a little thing called courtesy, but I think that might be a little bit out of your comprehension.” The icy rejoinder was unwarranted, he had yet to do anything to incur her wrath, but the bitch in Eden couldn’t help the jab. “It would actually require you to think about someone other than yourself.”
“I have only ever had myself,” he uttered thickly, his candor utterly unexpected. “Self-preservation can turn you into the thing you fear most.”
Eden was not sure of how to respond but knowing just how precarious the moment was, she preceded furtively, “Dominic—”
He held up a halting hand, his palm facing her. “I’m not very good at asking for things that I could simply just take, and as much as I hate rejection, I will not push if you wish to deny my request.”
He made it simple for her. The choice was hers today. A rather rare occurrence considering the amount of influence he’d had over her life thus far. He wouldn’t force her to accompany him to wherever it was he wanted to take her. She could very well say no and not fear that she was breaching their contract in some way. Eden was poised to say just that, tell him thanks but no thanks for the invite, but unfortunately, she found herself saying something completely different than what was going through her mind. “I’ll go.”That didn’t sound anything like a rejection, she thought morosely. “But on one condition.”
“Name it,” he said quietly, battling with a squirming Liam.
“The minute I’ve had enough, you bring me home.”
He paused for an interminable second in which Eden thought he would refuse and call off the entire thing, but with a clenched jaw and shuttered features, he conveyed his resolve. “The very minute.”
Chapter Seventeen
The evening started off well enough. He hadn’t told her where they were going, and Eden hadn’t bothered to ask. But she figured they were probably headed out to eat, and given Dominic’s pension for fancy restaurants, she dressed accordingly. The dark rinsed jeans and sleeveless blouse she’d opted for were a far cry from the overtly extravagant dresses she’d worn all the other times they’d gone out. The only thing remotely fancy about the outfit was the pair of opened toe three inch heels adorning her newly pedicured feet. She’d kept her layered locks down so that it just barely skimmed her shoulders, having grown a few inches in the last few months. A gold statement necklace hung around her neck, stopping just about her navel, while a thin gold bracelet adorned her left wrist. It was simple, casual, and comfortable and because he hadn’t outright opposed when he’d seen her, Eden had figured it was okay.
Their mode of transportation was another black, sleek vehicle that was as magnificently powerful as its owner, which he handled with fluid control. With the atmosphere in the car rife with pervasive tension, the conversation was strictly lacking, but that was altogether fine with Eden because she wasn’t sure if she would’ve tripped over her tongue if she’d made the attempt to speak. She was incredibly nervous for some undefined reason, and that nervousness only heightened when they finally arrived at their destination. He was at her door before she could open it, and as Eden descended from the car, he set a hand at her hip to draw her effortlessly closer to his muscular frame. “You look beautiful.” His radiating breath smelled like cinnamon as it grazed along her ear.
“Thank you,” Eden managed, though inside she was all frantic heart and fractured nerves. She exalted in her outward composure. But with every step they took towards the small Italian bistro, Eden found it difficult to sustain that composure as she grew disturbingly cognizant of his proximity and the familiar sent of his cologne. It didn’t help that he maintained a leading, decisive hand on the small of her back, low enough that he was practically touching the top of her butt.
The maître d’ greeted him warmly as though he were an old friend before signaling the hostess, who led them to their seats. Looking around at the modest setting, with its low slung lights at every small square table and off beat art adorning the stucco walls, Eden was wholly surprised. This wasn’t the sort of place she would’ve ever associated with Dominic who was the quintessence of ostentatious. This place seemed far too rustic for him. And maybe the surprise showed on her face as his mouth turned upwards in semblance of a smile. “This is one of my favorite restaurants,” he quietly informed in a manner that was completely unlike him. “The food is spectacular.”
“How did you find it?” Before he could respond, menus were offered and their waiter made an inquiry about beverages. He requested a bottle of wine, vintage naturally, while Eden asked for a glass of water with a lemon wedge. Again she was surprised to find that he’d actually allowed her to order her own drink rather than do it for her as he’d done on so many prior occasions.
“Mr. Armstrong, it is always a pleasure to have you dine at our establishment.” The man standing at their side was big in girth and height and looked slightly familiar, but Eden could not immediately place him. He wore a chef’s uniform complete with hat and a genuine smile he bestowed on Dominic, who stood to greet him, taking his hand in a firm handshake. When he looked at Eden his brown eyes widened in his weathered face. “Mrs. Armstrong, what a lovely surprise.” Though Eden shook his hand with a warm smile, she was lost as to who he was.
“Franklin was our chef,” Dominic smoothly imparted, coming to her rescue. “He has since opened up this bistro.”
“Oh, yes, Franklin,” she said weakly, reddening when the man gave her an understanding smile. “It’s good to see you. Congratulations on the restaurant.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Armstrong. I could not have done it without Mr. Armstrong’s generous contribution. He is the reason I even have this place.”
When they both glanced at Dominic, he simply shrugged but remained resolutely silent on the matter. Taking that as signal to get on with it, Franklin cleared his throat and produced an infallible smile. “I will personally see to your meals. The usual for you, sir?”
At Dominic’s nod, he turned to Eden. “And you, Mrs. Armstrong, the wild mushroom risotto?” Ah yes, Eden remembered him now. He’d made the most mouthwatering risotto. At her assent, he left their company and returned to the kitchen to whip up their meals.
“You helped him with his business?” Eden asked a few minutes later.
“Nothing so philanthropic. If anything I am exploiting his culinary skills for my gain.”
Eden assessed him, tilting her head just so to see if she could peer beyond the austerity he wore so well. “Why is it so important for you to have me see you as nothing more than an asshole?”
“Because that is all there is,” he drawled with that self-deprecating air that was not at all like him. “I do not know how to be anything else.”
“But you’re different when you’re with Liam. You’re...kinder.” A soft smile touched his lips, chasing away for a second the webs of stoicism and aloofness.
“He has become an unexpected surprise,” he quietly confessed, the soft smile remaining. “A pleasant one nevertheless. I did not realize I would enjoy having him so much. It is impossible for me to be anything but kind when I am with him.”
But it seemed he could not extend that same kindness when it came to her. Eden convinced herself that she was okay with it and that it no longer mattered. It would all be over soon enough.
“He likes being with you,” she returned, taking a long sip of her water to allay the lump in her throat.
“Yes,” he assented, anchoring her gaze with his own, “but one cannot say the same about his mother.”
