“No, I’m protecting you.”
“That’s what everyone says when they’re fucking using someone else, so I call bullshit. I’m part of your damn game.”
“Hugh’s going to keep bothering you unless he thinks it’ll cost him something. I want him to know that I take you very seriously.”
“Oh, right, that’s one idea.” I lean closer to him, shaking with fury. “Or maybe he’ll get pissed off and mess with me even more because you can’t be around all day every day. He’ll hear that you brought me to an important meeting and think that I’ve chosen sides and my life will be a living hell. Don’t you get it, Kellen? This is my job. It’s my whole life.”
“Your whole life is a garden?”
“Yes,” I hiss and screw him for judging me. If I want to waste my time digging in the dirt and planting flowers and bushes and cacti then, darn it, I’ll do just that. If I want to be a gardener forever, I will. There’s no shame in finding a passion and pursuing it relentlessly, even if that passion doesn’t seem exciting to the outside world. He has no place to say a damn thing about what I want to do, not a single freaking word, that selfish prick.
“It can be more than that,” he says quietly. “I can give you more than just a job digging around in the dirt.”
“You’re going to get me killed.” I pick up my wine just to have something to do with my hands that isn’t strangling him. “Let me out.”
“No,” he says, shaking his head. I’m trapped in this booth with him and I’m not sure I can escape even if I make a scene. This place is filled with people loyal to Kellen, no doubt about it, and the few civilians eating right now likely won’t do a thing to help.
I may be in a full restaurant, but I’m very much alone.
Kellen chuckles to himself and I drink my wine, furious, and at least I can play the silent game and make this as uncomfortable as I can. But he doesn’t seem to mind one bit. Food comes not long later and we eat, mostly in silence. He prods me with questions, trying to draw me out again, but I remain stubbornly silent and refuse to engage until we finish eating and he finally slips out into the aisle.
I get up and go to storm past him, but he catches my wrist. I whirl, ready to scream in his face, but his eyes are serious. “You’re not going to say anything?”
I open my mouth then clamp it shut again. “There are a lot of things I want to say right now.”
“About the meal. This is my restaurant, remember?”
I glance at the empty plates and shake my head. “It was good. Is that what you want to hear?”
“Yes,” he says, letting me go. “It was.”
I walk out. He follows me at a leisurely pace. I reach the car first and kick the tire, pissed as hell. We drive back to the mansion and when we park, I throw open the door and jump out before he has a chance to protest.
But he follows me as I walk fast through the garden.
“You can’t be mad forever,” he calls out. “You think I’m using you, but believe me, Tara, I’m the lesser of two evils. Hugh will bleed you dry and give you nothing in return. At least I’m offering you something you want.”
“Oh, good, that makes it better,” I say as my cottage comes into sight. “Use me up but at least leave some cash on the bedside table. I can either be a chump or a whore.”
“At least a whore gets paid. But you’re no prostitute, princess. This is a business deal. We can have a mutually beneficial arrangement. We can both be happy.”
I turn on him ten feet from my door and jab a finger into his finely sculpted chest. “You don’t know anything about me, okay? It’s been years since we last spoke and we were never close, so stop talking like you know what I want and what’s best for me.”
“You want the garden. I’ll give it to you. What else is there to know?”
“God, you’re so infuriating. You want to get married and yet you act like that’s no big thing. But guess what, Kellen? It’s a huge fucking deal. It’s the biggest deal imaginable.”
I turn away and grab my door, ripping it open. He’s saying something, but I don’t hear him over my suddenly racing heart as I stare into my home.
It’s a wreck.
Not like it normally is—the drawers are torn out and plates and bowls are smashed on the floor. The refrigerator door hangs open and all my food is in a heap on the table. There’s glass on the floor, my TV is shattered, my clothes are torn to pieces.
It looks like a pack of wild dogs went crazy.
“Hugh,” Kellen says quietly. He grabs my wrist. “You’re not safe in here.”
“I’d rather sleep on the wreckage of my life than go anywhere with you.” I wrench myself away, step inside, and slam the door in his face.