“Do we have a problem here . . . sir?” he started. “Are you harassing this woman?”
Rage burned red across Brendan's face, but he knew that he couldn’t afford to get into any more legal trouble. He stood, his hands clenched in anger.
“No,” he hissed through tightly-drawn lips. “We don't have a problem. I was just leaving.”
“See you around, Lilah,” he snarled.
I didn't bother to respond.
The waiter watched him go with a steely gaze, but his expression softened as soon as Brendan had left. “I'm so sorry, miss,” he said. “Are you all right? I'll bring you a free cocktail, on me, if you'd like.”
I smiled. “Aw, aren't you sweet! No, but, thanks, dear, I'm fine. No alcohol for me anyway. Thank you for helping me out there.”
“Not a problem,” he said. “I was a bouncer at a bar before this. I left that job because I got so sick of dealing with asses like that. I didn't think I'd have to deal with it here.”
“I'm sure it was an isolated incident,” I commented. “Just a bit of bad luck, is all.”
The waiter nodded, smiled, and walked off just as Meg arrived. She had a strange expression on her face.
“Hey, there,” she said, glancing at the waiter. “Did I miss something?”
“Hey, Megs, you're a bit late.”
“Yeah. Uh, you didn't see anyone you know here, right?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know . . . Someone from your office. Someone from Sinclair.”
“Nope. I did run into someone—but he wasn't from Sinclair. A certain sleazy ex-billionaire and I'd rather not think about him, if ya don’t mind.”
“Hmm, all right.” She seemed almost disappointed, although I wasn't sure why. “Never mind,” she said. “Let's eat some sushi.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Asher
I wasn't sure exactly what Meg had hoped to achieve by inviting me to meet her and Lilah at the sushi restaurant, but I'd gone along with it anyway. I'd chatted with her a few times since getting back from Hawaii, but Lilah had no idea she and I had talked. Meg had told me how Lilah really felt about me, and of course I'd told her about how I felt about Lilah.
I'd hoped that, as Lilah's best friend, she was someone who would be able to convince Lilah of the depth of my feelings for her. But if she'd tried to change Lilah's mind about me, it hadn't worked. Since Hawaii, Lilah had remained as cold and indifferent as she ever had.
I still hadn't been able to work out what had happened, or what I'd done wrong. We'd had the most amazing time together in Hawaii—and I'm not simply talking about sex, although it had been amazing.
We'd done everything together over those few days. We'd eaten in wonderful restaurants, gone on long hikes, had a picnic, sunbathed on beaches, gone snorkeling together, sat by fires on the beach and watched the stars. It had been perfect . . . more perfect than I could ever remember anything in my life being.
I'd awoken late on the final day, only to find she'd quietly packed her bags and left. Attempts to call and message her had been met with silence. At first, I'd tried to talk with her about it, to plead with her to give us a chance, to just see if our relationship could work. She had simply refused.
So, I'd given up. Even though my heart still burned for her, I hadn't been able to do anything about it. It had been her choice, and that had been that.
At least, until Meg contacted me. She seemed to believe that I still had a chance. I'd been skeptical—how could I not be? Still, I'd reluctantly agreed to give it a shot.
So, there I was at sushi as requested. I'd seen Lilah's car in the parking lot, so I knew she was there. I walked in, hopeful, and then froze in my tracks at the sight that confronted me. Was this Meg's idea of a sick joke?! There was Lilah, all right—I could only see her from behind, but it was
unmistakably her—and there, seated across from her at the restaurant table, smiling with that disgusting, smug grin of his, was Brendan Savage.
I could only stand to see this scene for a few seconds. I knew if I didn't leave immediately, I would explode. With the awful sight burned into my mind, I spun around and stormed out of the restaurant.
I'd seen everything I needed to see. All hope was finally dead—and buried.