Page 81 of Monster Among the Roses (Fairy Tale Quartet 1)

A waiter arrived to take our drink orders a moment later. He talked directly to me, pretending Isobel wasn’t present. I had no idea if she wanted a fancy bottle of champagne or what, so I lifted my gaze across the table, where Isobel said, “Water’s fine for me.”

So I told the guy, “Just water for both of us.”

He nodded to me. “Very well, sir,” and took off again.

I frowned after him, not sure why he hadn’t even acknowledged her, when a voice from a few tables over floated our way.

“Oh my God, did you see that woman’s face?”

Blinking, I turned in that direction to find a table of two women, leaning toward each other eagerly as they gossiped.

“I know!” the second one gushed. “Those scars are disgusting. It looks like someone took a meat tenderizer to her.”

Stunned by their uncouth behavior, I turned back to Isobel, who sat stiff and straight, her chin tipped up and blue eyes filled with blank acceptance.

“How in God’s name can a guy that gorgeous stand being seen with her in public?” the first woman continued.

The other snickered. “She must be super rich. Or incredible in bed.”

They shared a laugh. “I don’t see how. He’d have to put a bag over her head just to get it up.”

Okay, that was it. Enough was enough. I whirled to face the women so fast they jumped, startled, and lifted large-eyed gazes my way.

“Or maybe I’m with her because I find her to be beautiful,” I bit out. “Inside and out. She makes me laugh and smile. My heart beats faster every time she enters a room. Oh, and she’s not an overly loud and rude, opinionated jerk. Strange how that kind of shit actually matters to some people, isn’t it?”

Mouths falling open, the two women gaped at me as if I’d lost my mind.

“Yeah, we heard you,” I added, answering their silent suspicions. “Loud and clear. The whole damn restaurant heard you. And frankly, with annoying mouths like yours, I’d be surprised if every man who’s ever slept with you two didn’t need earplugs to get it up.”

“Shaw!” Isobel gasped.

I spun to her, snapping, “What? They’re pissing me off. No one talks about you like that and gets away with it.”

Her face flushed and expression turned miserable. I knew she would’ve rather we’d completely ignored the two women, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.

“Excuse me, sir,” the maître d' asked, appearing at our table nervously wringing his hands and glancing around toward the other curious patrons. “Is there a problem here?” he asked politely enough, but the look on his face seemed to say I was the problem.

“Yes,” I said, the word cutting. “There very much is a problem here.” Isobel hissed my name again, trying to rein me in, but I was too busy glaring at the headwaiter. “Those two women over there keep insulting us, and it’s pissing me off.”

The man swallowed and glanced at the women, who looked equal parts guilty and indignant. Then he turned back to me. “I’m so sorry, sir. Would you like us to seat you at another table?”

I lifted my eyebrows at this suggestion. “No,” I said. “I liked it here. We were minding our own damn business, not bothering anyone else until they started in. Why don’t you ask them to move? Or better yet, to leave entirely?”

“Oh my God,” Isobel moaned under her breath. “Shaw, please stop.”

I glanced at her, and my heart wrenched. This was supposed to be her night, her special evening to make up for her prom and every other date she’d missed in the last eight years. I’d wanted it to go perfectly. Nothing bad was supposed to happen.

The maître d' continued fumbling for the right words, because clearly he wasn’t going to reprimand the women; he must not have found any offence with them.

Swallowing all the rage and injustice I found from the situation, I slowly pulled my cloth napkin from my lap and set it gently on the table in front of me. Then I stood just as deliberately, until I was at my full height, which just so happened to be a good six inches taller than the maître d'.

His eyes widened and he took a step back as if he thought I was going to throttle him. In his defense, I’m sure my gaze blazed with how much I did want to throttle him.

But all I said was, “I think we’ll just leave.” Sending the two loudmouth women one last nasty glare, I added, “We’ve lost our appetites.”

When I turned my attention to Isobel and held my hand down to her, she gracefully took it and rose regally to her feet. I’d never been so proud of anyone in my life. She’d sequestered herself away for eight years because she’d been worried about experiencing moments just like this, and here she was, surviving her worst fear with poised perfection.

With my heart in my throat, I kissed her lips, lingering softly. Then I glanced at the maître d' with narrowed eyes and led her from the restaurant.

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