“She didn’t look like you.” Is all I say and he chuckles.
“Babydoll, the next time you want to know if I have a girlfriend, just ask. Also, I don’t cheat because men like me don’t have girlfriends. Sorry to disappoint you.”
“I don’t care, so I’m not disappointed.”
That’s why I ignore the flicker of mischief in his eyes and jump to the more important questions on my mind.
“Any news on Robert?” I ask changing the subject.
“Not the kind I was hoping for.”
“What did you find?”
There’s something in his eyes I can’t read and I can’t begin to guess what it could be.
“Nothing for you to worry about anymore,” he eventually answers.
Anymore?
What the hell does that mean?
“I’m curious to know what it is now. That man killed my sister.”
“It has nothing to do with that. What I found happened long before your sister’s death and like I said, it’s nothing to worry about.”
He sets his fork down while I continue to eat. I had more questions lined up but all were reliant on him getting news of Robert. Since he didn’t, I’m not sure what to ask. I can’t talk about the funeral with him. Not yet. And now that I think about it, I’m not sure if I want to go down that road at all tonight.
When he sets his elbows on the table and continues to stare at me I look at him.
“What is it?” I ask, feeling conscious of him again.
“What sent you to Club Montage?” he asks riveting his gaze to mine.
The question throws me off guard. Honestly, though, it’s the kind of question I should have expected. The only way I wouldn’t need to is if he didn’t know what the club is.
“Why?”
“Curiosity.”
“A jobs a job.”
“That isn’t just a job, though, is it?”
“My reasons for working there are none of your business.” I don’t want to talk about it. Everything I say will make me sound worse than the loser I am. My path to Club Montage is what killed Scarlett.
“Were you Robert’s girl?”
All traces of that jovial lightheartedness he previously displayed is gone as he keeps his gaze trained on me. Deep within his eyes the emotion I couldn’t name before becomes crystal clear and looks like a deadly combination of jealousy and displeasure.
The shock of what I’m witnessing leaves me speechless. But even if I wasn’t shocked, I don’t know how I’d begin to answer that question since technically I was Robert’s whenever he wanted me to be.
“Why is that relevant to anything?” I ask in a small voice.
“Did he own you?” He ignores my question and his tone sounds more demanding than it previously did.
I lose my appetite again as my stomach squeezes once more.
“Why are you asking me that?” This is a guy who doesn’t ask any questions he doesn’t already know the answers to. So he knows the answer is that I was. What I want to know is why he wants to hear me say it.