Page 54 of The Forbidden
Harrison stares at me dumbfounded, but it’s Parker that speaks. “You have a conference call?” he repeats, his brow raised skeptically.
I turn my gaze on him, clearing my throat. “Yeah. Must’ve slipped my mind.”
“You’re fucked up, you know that, Maxwell?” Nathanial adds, chuckling knowingly.
I glare down at him. “Maybe.”
He shakes his head, a smirk twitching at his lips. “You better go before you miss that importantconference call.” I don’t miss the sarcasm in his tone.
“If you’ll excuse me, gentleman.” Without another word, I turn on my heel, pulling my phone from my pants pocket and typing out a quick message to my driver.
Anais thinks she can go on dates with that asshole after what happened between us?
Yeah, no. Not on my fucking watch.
This might be one of the most reckless things I’ve ever done, but at this point, I’ve lost all control of my senses. Every single part of me demands I go claim the girl who is consuming my every thought.
And I’ll be damned if I ignore it.
Even with the image of Harrison’s suspicious expression flashing through my mind, I stride out of the bar and into the night air, determined to show Anais exactly who she belongs to.
We pull up at the restaurant a little while later. I’m out of my town car, before it even stops, making my way into thebuilding that the object of my annoyance is currently holed up in. On adate.
Moving through the entrance, I’m stopped by a tall, blonde, hostess wearing a seductive smile. She bats her long lashes up at me, her voice taking on a purring edge when she speaks. “Welcome to Rodrigo Central Park. Do you have a reservation, sir?”
“No,” I attempt to move past her, but she stops me with a hand to my arm.
“I’m sorry, sir. But I can’t let you through without a reservation.” She grits out through her now fake smile.
My eyes narrow. No matter what I have to do, I am getting into this restaurant.
“Get me Rodrigo.” I order. It’s a dick move asking for the owner, but Rodrigo and I go way back. When he wanted to start this place, I loaned him the money he needed to open the restaurant. And if he has to do my bidding, then I’m not above asking for him.
There are no lines I won’t cross to put a stop to this bullshit.
She frowns, then blinks. “Rodrigo?”
“Yes,” I hiss, losing all patience. I know I’m being an asshole, but I can’t help it. Time is of the essence and this woman, despite only doing her job, is stopping me. “I want to talk to Rodrigo. Now.” My tone leaves no room for argument.
She startles before reaching under the hostess stand and retrieving a radio. She talks through it, in a hushed voice then drops it behind the counter. “He’s on his way,” she says, forcing a smile.
Sliding my hands in my pants pocket, I summon every ounce of self-control I possess, tamping down my anger and trying to collect myself before I speak. Gritting my teeth, I nod. “Thank you.”
A couple of minutes later, a tall figure in a three-piece suit appears. A look of confusion crosses Rodrigo’s expression when he spots me, his eyebrows jumping to his hairline. “Mr. Maxwell?” He steps in front of me. “What can I do for you?”
“I think we’re way past formalities, Rodrigo,” I drawl sardonically, eyebrow arched.
He chuckles. “What can I do for you, Evan? Why are you harassing my staff? Do you need a table?”
No,” I state simply, shaking my head. “That favor you owe me. You’re about to repay it.”
Rodrigo glances around, and noticing the hostess’s interest directed at us, he gestures down the hall. “Shall we step into my office?”
I nod. “I think that would be wise.”
Rodrigo nods, before turning on his heel and leading me to his office. Once inside, he closes the door and motions for me to take a seat.”
He settles into his chair, eyeing me curiously. “Well, say whatever it is you came here for, Evan.” He sighs tiredly.
