Page 83 of His To Erase
Good. Someone should be.
A flicker of movement catches my eye—Ani slips behind the bar again, her mouth is set in that sharp little line she wears when she’s pretending she’s fine. I can taste the edge of her unraveling like it’s smoke on the back of my tongue. My dick takes it as an invitation and starts to press against my pants.
I barely notice the girl until she speaks.
“Hey there, stranger.”
A voice cuts through the low thrum of the bar—too sweet, too rehearsed, and laced with too much perfume and the kind of confidence that wilts under rejection.
I ignore her, but she slides into the booth across from me anyway with her big smile, her too-tight dress, and cleavage shoved together like it’s supposed to do the talking for her.
“You come here often?” she asks, biting her lip like it’s supposed to be cute. “Because I’d definitely remember seeing you.”
I lift my glass, taking a slow sip. I don’t look at her, or say a word.
She laughs nervously. “That’s cool. You don’t have to talk. I can still suck you off in the bathroom though.”
Jesus Christ.
I glance up then, finally meeting her eyes, and letting the silence stretch until it bites. Then I lean forward, resting my arms on the table.
“You always talk this much when a man’s clearly not interested?”
Her mouth opens with some half-formed protest bubbling out, but I’m already looking past her—watching Ani disappear through the back door with a trash bag slung over her shoulder.
The girl blinks, stunned. “Excuse me?”
“No.” I smile, sharp and unbothered. “Excuse yourself. Off my table.”
She stands too fast, and the chair screeches. She mutters something that sounds like asshole as she stalks away.
Ani
Fuck him. I mean that in the throw-him-off-a-cliff-with-his-own-ego kind of way.
Fuck. Him.
He’s the one who’s ever wrecked me so thoroughly I’m still finding pieces of myself in places I didn’t know were cracked. And then had the audacity to show up at my bar like he didn’t say ‘Don’t let anyone else put their hands on you.’
Right.
Real fucking rich, considering I caught him chatting it up with some giggling blonde with legs for days and a laugh that made me want to shatter a pint glass with my teeth.
I’ve spent the last hour refusing to look at him. Refusing to give him the satisfaction. I even sent Sarah to take his order like the petty bitch I am. And now I’m supposed to act like none of it happened?
Nope. Fuck this. I’m going home.
I shove past Sarah on my way to the back. “I’m going home. You good?”
She side-eyes me without looking up from the drink she’s mixing. “Sure. I’ll just close solo and pray I don’t get murdered in the parking lot. Totally chill.”
I roll my eyes. “I’ll text you when I get home.”
She glances up, pausing just long enough to smirk. “I’ll tell Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Possessive to quit staring like he’s auditioning for a restraining order.”
“I’d rather tell him to choke.”
She grins. “Kinky.”
