Page 15 of Deal with Mr. Cruel

Mae slapped him across the face. She couldn’t believe she had done it. It felt like a reflex. She felt the eyes of the patrons of the restaurant on them, but she didn’t care. She was seeing red. Grabbing her purse, she stood from her barstool. Jonas’s hand slipped around her wrist as she turned to leave. She looked back at him, tears in her eyes.

“Mae, I didn’t mean it like that,” he said quietly, his eyes full of apologies. “I just meant I know you. We have history.”

“Well, I’m not going to be a part ofthatfuture,” she said, pulling her arm out of his grasp. She began to walk away.

“You’ll give in, Mae. I have Nico, don’t I? And I can easily get him moved back down to the minors, or to Florida, or somewhere else horrible,” he said after her. She couldn’t believe he was threatening her.What did I ever see in him?she wondered as she left the restaurant.

Chapter 7

Jonas

After Mae abruptly walked out on Jonas, he had sat at the bar in slight disbelief. He couldn’t believe he had actually done it. He had proposed his secret plan to her. But he also couldn’t believe she had slapped him. Or could he? Jonas coolly sat there going over the event, trying to ignore the eyes of everyone around him. Could he blame them? They just witnessed a soap opera scene play out before them. He rubbed his cheek where her hand had struck him. It still slightly stung. He downed the rest of his scotch.

“Would you like another, Mr. Matthews?” the bartender asked hesitantly, looking toward the exit where Mae had just left.

Jonas shook his head. “That’s all right. I’ll take the check.”

The bartender nodded and started typing on the register, sneaking glances at Jonas. “She was a fiery one,” he said with a small smirk.

“You have no idea,” Jonas said with a sigh.

“What did you do to piss her off?”

“I proposed to her,” Jonas said with a laugh.

The bartender’s eyes widened as he laid the check on the counter.

“So, I’m assuming there won’t be any wedding bells in the near future.”

“We’ll see about that,” Jonas said with a wink. He stood from his barstool and shrugged his jacket over his broad shoulders. Scribbling on the tab, he left a generous tip on top of what he owed. As he headed for the exit, most everyone avoided eye contact. Jonas walked through the revolving door and found his town car waiting.

“Mr. Matthews,” his driver said as he started to get out of the driver’s seat.

“No need today, Albert,” said Jonas, holding up his hand.

“But—”

“I’m going to walk.” He tossed a wad of cash and Albert caught it. “Go grab some lunch. Swing by the office around six. I should have everything wrapped up by then.”

“Thank you, sir,” Albert said, nodding graciously.

Jonas needed the walk to clear his head, but he couldn’t fight the memories that swarmed him. He remembered the weekend away with Mae. Clinking their glasses together as the mariachi played. Walking on the beach, holding her hand, as they were unsteady on their feet. Being pushed around by the waves, laughing hysterically. Gently helping her out of her soaking wet dress and into the California king-sized bed. It was one of the best weekends of his life. He was away from the pressure of work and the watchful eye of his father.

On the plane ride home, she had fallen asleep on his shoulder. Looking down at her, he had come to the decision that he would come clean with his father and the entire office. If she was open to it, of course. He was mostly confident she would be happy to be out in the open with everything, even though they never really talked about it. They were happy in their little bubble. She never pressured him to come out of it.

When he went back to the office on Monday, his father had called him into his office. “Did you have a nice weekend?” his father asked with a slight sneer.

“I did. Thank you.”

“You take this job seriously, don’t you, Jonas?”

“Yes, sir. Of course.”

“I only ask because I’m not really seeing that from you.”

“Because I took a weekend off?” Jonas said, raising an eyebrow.

“You think I got to where I am by taking weekends off?” his father asked, gesturing to his office.

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