Page 49 of Under Your Scars
“Are you a native to Meridian City?” Jeannine asks.
“Oh, no. I only moved here for school. I’m from Houston, Texas. My dad is from here, though.”
“Ah!” Ronald exclaims loudly. “I knew you looked familiar! You’re Elliot’s daughter!” Ronald roughly pats his wife on the back. “Dr. Young does Jean’s liposuction.”
A small round of laughter popcorns around the table as Jeannine lightly scolds her husband. She smiles brightly at me. “Oh, your father is so proud of you. Last time I saw him for a touch up he wouldn’t stop talking about how he couldn’t wait to see you for Thanksgiving. You’ll tell him hello for me next time you talk to him?”
I nod. “Sure.”
Jeannine goes back to scolding her husband and I take one more bite of my dessert before resting my hand on Christian’s thigh and whispering in his ear. “I need to use the restroom. I’ll be right back.”
Christian stops me from standing by tenderly holding my jaw, stealing a deep kiss before letting me go. A bright red blush forms across my cheeks and I try to pretend I don’t notice the entire table fall quiet at the gesture.
After I take care of my business, I wash my hands and the restroom attendant hands me a warm towel to dry them with. I don’t understand why rich people are okay with having someone listen to them pee. It’s wildly uncomfortable.
After I dry my hands, I give myself a once-over in the mirror to make sure I still look nice. I twirl one big curl with a finger to shape it and touch up my lipstick, slightly smudged after my meal, and then check my teeth for any food or rogue makeup.
Once I’m satisfied that I can still blend in as one of Meridian City’s elite, I awkwardly thank the bathroom attendant.Am I supposed to tip?I honestly don’t know. I leave the restroom before I can think twice about it.
The restrooms are tucked away in a long hallway far away from the dining area. My heels click against the shiny floors as I make my way down the corridor. As I pass the men’s room, the door swings open abruptly, and my eyes nearly burst out of my head when Neil Hayden comes stumbling out, sniffing and rubbing his pinky along his nose. He doesn’t notice me at first. He’s clearly drunk, and maybe even high, too. Once he manages to stand up straight, we make eye contact, and he frowns at me like he always does.
“Look what we have here,” Neil boasts. “It’s the little whore that got me fired.” The way he says ‘whore’sends white hot rage through me. He’s such a dickhead. I don’t know how I tolerated his verbal harassment for five months before Christian fired him.
I don’t know what to say to him. He’s drunk, so I doubt he’d comprehend anything that comes out of my mouth. He’s always hated me, and that clearly only got worse after he was fired. I tilt my head down and stare at the floor and try to step around him, but he steps into my path. I try to go the other way, and he blocks my path again.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Back to my table,” I snarl, and I’m proud of myself for sounding firm even though my anxiety is at twelve on a scale from one to ten. I try to step around him again, and he blocks my path again. “Move, Neil.”
“Just tell me one thing, Eliza.” He lifts his hand to drag his finger along the diamond necklace around my throat. The touch sends a cold chill down my spine. “How much does Reeves pay you for a night?”
“Pig,” I mumble as I push past him as hard as I can, and in his drunken state, he stumbles backwards, giving me enough time to quickly scurry down the hall before he can straighten up. The moment I take a step back into the dining room, I feel Neil’s grubby hand grab my elbow and tug me back. It startles me enough to make me let out a yelp, drawing the attention of the two tables closest to us.
“Let me go,” I demand, trying to rip out of his grip.
Warm, large hands circle my waist and pull me back a few steps. I sigh in relief that Christian’s come to my rescue, but it quickly turns to heightened panic as he puts himself between Neil and I, grabbing Neil by the back of his neck and slamming his face down into the table closest to us. Neil’s ear lands in a poor lady’s hot soup, and he lets out a wail. Christian lift’s Neil’s face again, only to slam it back down into the soup bowl hard enough to break the ceramic.
Christian growls, leaning down until he’s inches away from Neil’s other ear. He twists one of Neil’s arms unnaturally over the edge of the table, pressing it until it’s on the cusp of breaking. “You listen to me, you fuckhead. If youevertouch her again,Iwill killyou. Do you fucking hear me? I will make you regret your entire miserable existence and then I will kill you. Slowly. Don’t even fucking breathe in her goddamn direction or I will rip your heart out of your chest with my bare hands.”
Before I even have a chance to step in to try and calm Christian down, he takes Neil’s arm and breaks it over the edge of the table. The snap is loud and sickening, and the witnessing tables gasp in horror as Neil lets out a loud groan of pain. Christian lets him go, pushing him down to the floor and then without even sparing me a second glance, he grabs my hand and wordlessly leads me outside.
I struggle to keep up. My legs are so much shorter than his and my heels feel like they’re going to fly off with how fast he’s walking. Once we’re in the cool air of the night, I let out a shiver and cross my arms over my chest to hide my quickly hardening nipples from the temperature.
Christian paces around in a small circle while the valet disappears to go get his car. His eyes meet mine and notices my shivering, tension so hot on his body that steam is radiating off him. He shrugs off the jacket of his suit and drapes it over my shoulders, rubbing my arms twice with his large hands to try and warm me up with friction.
He growls and his eyes shoot back to the front doors of the restaurant. He presses his forehead against mine and squeezes his eyes shut as he holds his jacket around me in a white-knuckled grip. I might have found the embrace beautifully intimate if he weren’t seething with rage.
“Elena, talk about something. Distract me so I don’t go back in there and break his neck,” he says softly to me, almost pleading for help. My chest heaves with so much panic and confusion. What the fuck am I supposed to say?
My voice trembles when I start talking, not even trying to make my thoughts coherent. “Okay, um…sometimes I think about stealing the hazelnut creamer from the office because I can’t afford my own, but I’m always afraid that if I do, you’ll go bankrupt and it will be my fault, and I’d go to jail over coffee creamer.”
Christian lifts his head off mine and stares at me like I’m a fucking idiot. Of course, stealing creamer wouldn’t put Reeves Enterprises out of business, and nobody in their right mind would waste time with sending me to jail over creamer when there is anactualserial killer running around this horrible city.
If my stupidity prevents Christian from going in there and giving Neil Hayden a broken neck to match his broken arm, it’s worth the momentary humiliation.
Christian grabs me by the cheeks, closes the mere inches of space between us, and kisses me so hard our teeth clack together. He holds me impossibly tight to his chest as he steals the air from my lungs.
He only lets me go once the purr of his car’s engine comes around the corner, but before he pulls away completely, he shakes his head roughly, and I hear him murmur through gritted teeth,“You’re the mistake.”
