Page 14 of Worship

“Fuckyou.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He turns on the heat and then the radio, backing out of the parking space. After leaving the lot and driving down a private lane, I realize he doesn’t go into the city. He takes old roads instead, avoiding the main ones. Sticking to the shadows like he knows nothing else.

Eventually, we pull up outside a small building in a secluded area with only a few townhouses. The engine dies, and he gets out of the car first, circling around the back and opening the door for me. Once I’m out, his hand falls on my shoulder, probably to stop me from running from him.

Keeping me close, we approach a black building with red accents and dimly lit inside. A place that looks too romantic for the likes of Milton and me. The aroma of food instantly makes my stomach growl as we enter, reminding me that I haven’t eaten all day. Only a few are in the restaurant, and while it should relax me that we’re in public, I know not to be. “Milton?” A tall woman approaches us with a wide smile. Wearing a fitted black dress and killer heels, her hair a deep shade of ebony, skin tan and glowing. As I look closer, it surprises me to see the eyes of a predator peering back. Ones that barely hide a salacious and deviant appetite.

“Bella,” Milton says as she leans over and places a kiss on his cheek. One that’s not too lingering or makes contact.

“It’s been a while.” I shrink under her assessment when she turns to me. “Bellissimo.” She smiles. “Lei è tua?” A muscle works Milton’s jaw, and her eyebrow rises when he doesn’t answer. “Very well. Your business is your own.”

Unexpectedly, she reaches forward and takes one of my blond curls in her fingers. Her eyes soften, tongue dampening her lips.

Fingers snake around my waist and Milton pulls me back against his body, breaking her contact. The heat from his body flares through mine as he says, “AtableBella, please. I don’t have all night.”

Her back straightens defensively, reminding me of a feral cat. “Of course. Right this way.”

We follow her to a table, and I scoff when Milton pulls out a chair for me, as if this is a date or something. “How are the kids?” he asks Bella then.

“Up to no good.” She places menus in front of us, and he flicks through his. “Would you believe my Rika turned twenty just yesterday? And she’s still available if you’re looking to settle down, Milton.”

He smiles at that. “You must be desperate to get her out of the house if you’re offering her to me.”

She laughs and asks, “Drinks?”

“Water will do.” Nodding, she walks away, and he watches her leave for a few seconds as if he’s thinking about something. “Order whatever you like,” he eventually says to me.

I don’t grab my menu. A ring on his middle finger has caught my attention instead. Something I’ve never seen him wear before—a silver signet with an ‘X’ engraved on the metal. Something that looks significant. Important. Catching me looking, he twists it with his thumb. “Do you want to know what it means?”

I know it’s a trick question. This means something to the new Milton, and hewantsme to ask the question he knows is burning the tip of my tongue.

Shame that I’m also a firm believer in what you don’t know can’t kill you.

“A story for later maybe,” he says as a girl walks over to our table carrying our drinks, Bella now nowhere to be seen. She’s pretty, with golden skin and silky black hair, only she looks out of place, playing a waitress in a restaurant lurking on the edges of the city.

Curving the ring around his finger again, Milton watches as she places our drinks on the table and pulls out a notepad from her pocket. “Can I take your orders?”

“The tagliatelle.”

She points her gaze at me, and I immediately glance away, avoiding the mirror that reflects my own fear and pain. She doesn’t hide her feelings well. No one taught her how. “Same,” I mumble in reply.

After writing down our orders, she leaves, disappearing through a door that I assume leads to the kitchen. Minutes pass, and the silence continues. I sense Milton watching me again, and I shift uneasily, tugging my sleeves over my arms, self-conscious of the scars from my previous attempts to end it all.

“Still hiding them, I see.” His expression is void of emotion, but his eyes are once again so dark. I want to tear my gaze from his, but I can’t. I’m sucked in. How can he be the same person I knew all those years ago?

“Finally, waking up from a seizure, I see.”

“And stillirritating.” He lifts the glass of water to his lips and gulps down half of it.

“Why did you burn my file?”

He shrugs. “Did you want to keep it?”

“Let me guess—you threw it into the fire to wipe any trace of my existence because you’re trying to make me disappear?” I jump when he slams the glass down on the table, and for the first time tonight, there’s real annoyance in his expression.

“Is that not what you wanted to achieve the night you shoved pills down your throat?” There’s an edge to his tone now. “To disappear?”

My shoulders tense. “At least that was onmyterms. Nicolas clearly didn’t kill you, for whatever reason, and now you’re here to take me back to Blake, as you always do. Am I right?”

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