Chapter 12 Eli
Chapter twelve
Eli
Something isn’t right.
Madeleine, usually poised with her chin held high and her back straight as a rod, has been a nervous wreck since we left the house.
“Care to explain what has you in a tizzy?” I ask, stretching my arm across the back of our seats.
She stops biting her thumbnail—her biggest giveaway to her anxiety—and instantly adjusts her posture beside me.
“I’m not in a…” She makes air quotes. “‘Tizzy.’”
“Really? Well, you’ve fooled me.” I arch a brow, watching as she rolls her eyes and looks out her window.
“I can handle them,” she says softly, almost too quietly for me to hear.
“Handle who?” I ask, but before she can respond, the car pulls to a stop beside the restaurant.
She quickly scurries out of the car, stepping up the stairs in her six-inch heels toward the front entrance.
The black dress she’s wearing hugs every delicious curve of her body, and unfortunately, I’m not the only one who notices as the doorman holds the door open for her with his gaze lingering on her ass.
Fucking wanker.
Taking two steps at a time until I stand right before the man, I grab his collar and shove him against the glass wall.
“Do you have any idea who you were just eye-fucking?” I demand. He shakes his head vigorously as fear radiates off him in waves. “Madeleine Alarie.” He pales as recognition washes over his face.
“I had no idea! I swear!” he exclaims, his eyes widening in panic. He glances in her direction, and I shake him again.
“Don’t fucking look at her!”
“Okay! Okay! I won’t!”
“The next time I catch you admiring what isn’t yours, I’ll ensure that you never get the chance to see anything ever again.” I push him aside and quickly approach an unimpressed Madeleine, who stands with her arms crossed and her hip jutting out to the side.
“Do you feel better?” she asks, attempting to sound annoyed, but I notice a hint of amusement in her eyes.
I roll my neck and grin. “Very much so.”
Facing the main room, she sighs and says, “That makes one of us.”
She takes a step just as I reach out and grasp her elbow, stopping her. She stills, looking up at me with those captivating blue eyes I want to get lost in.
“You don’t have to go in there,” I tell her. “I can say you weren’t feeling well and arrange for a bottle of the most expensive champagne to be sent to their table as an apology.”
She smiles, but the corners of her lips barely reach her eyes. Her hand lands on mine, giving it a reassuring pat. “I do have to, but thank you.” She takes a step away but then stops, glancing over her shoulder. “Just…don’t leave my side, okay?”
“Never,” I answer.
The moment she resumes her steps, her smile fades, and she pulls her shoulders back, striding confidently through the space. An aura of authority and power surrounds her. I closely follow behind, maintaining only a few inches between us.
The room is filled with posh socialites dressed to the nines, here to be seen and heard.
They laugh as they shove their forks into their overpriced caviar and drink a bottle of champagne worth the price of someone’s car.
Servers stand at the ready nearby, prepared to be called upon for whatever these snobs desire.
The lights are dim, casting an ambient glow over the expansive space—a space that, the more I look around, I realize is designed to resemble the Palace of Versailles.
“Madeleine, darling.”
Alastor’s unpleasant voice causes my eyes to snap in his direction just as he leans forward, pressing a kiss to each of her cheeks. He snakes an arm around her waist, pulling her against his side.
“Smile!” A photographer appears before them, capturing a picture of the supposed happy couple. Onlookers nearby watch in admiration… If only they knew.
My hands, clenched at my sides, tremble with fury as I stare at the place on Madeleine’s hip where Alastor’s hand comfortably rests. That is until she manages to slip out of his grip, sneaking between a chair and positioning herself closer to me.
Alastor narrows his eyes, focusing on the small distance that separates us.
Can’t say he looks too pleased.
Subtly, I scan him from head to toe, mentally noting any places he may be storing a hidden weapon.
Should I be surprised to find him dressed in a custom-tailored white suit, looking like the goddamn Easter Bunny? No. What does catch me off guard is the presence of an older man standing beside him, both of them wearing almost identical ridiculous attire.
We step toward the table with four pairs of eyes on us.
“Hi, Eli.” Cressida tucks her hair behind her ear, looking up at me. “It’s lovely to see you again.”
I tilt my chin politely. “Always lovely to see you, Cressida.” I wasn’t lying to Madeleine when I told her she asked me out.
The girl has balls; I’ll give her that. However, when she asked me if I’d like to join her for dinner, I gently declined, explaining that work was my primary focus at the moment.
Not a lie, given that Madeleine is my work and, consequently, my primary focus.
“Madeleine, dear. I swear you get lovelier every time we see you,” the older man, who I assume is Alastor’s stepfather, Adolfo, says. She forces a smile as he reaches for her hand, but Madeleine pretends not to notice and sits down, sipping the wine before her.
Alastor and I stare off momentarily before he says, “Sorry, chap. Must have forgotten you’d be accompanying my darling girl here tonight. Don’t seem to have an extra chair for you.” He smiles wickedly as if he had just won a war.
But if there’s one thing he should know about me…
I never lose in a battle.
I grin. “Don’t think it will be a problem. In fact…” I turn to quickly scan the room and spot an empty seat two tables away. Hurrying over, I grab the chair and then place it between Madeleine and Cressida. As I sit down, my knee brushes against Madeleine’s. “Perfect fit.”
Alastor appears to want to say something, but instead, he tugs at his collar and takes the seat on the other side of Madeleine.
“Eli,” Madeleine voices as she subtly shifts away from Alastor. “This is Adolfo and Mila, Alastor’s parents.”
Adolfo leans back in his chair, his eyes taking me in. “You must be the new bodyguard we’ve heard so much about.”
“Yes, sir. The one and only.”
“And you’re equipped to handle Madeleine?”
Handle? This senile dickhead knows what century we’re in, right?
“If you mean to ask, am I equipped to keep Madeleine safe? Then yes. I would take a bullet for her and have. But handle?” I shake my head. “One doesn’t handle a queen in her own kingdom.”
Madeleine glances up at me with parted lips, her eyes holding mine as they shine radiantly. The tiny flame from the candle at the center of the table reflects across them, making her appear divine.
“Women are to be tamed,” Adolfo mutters, raising his amber drink to his lips. “You’ll learn that soon enough.”
Tamed? This son of a—
“Will Enzio be joining us tonight?” Madeleine asks, smoothing a napkin over her lap.
Alastor scoffs. “Let’s hope not. The sight of him will make my appetite vanish.”
“So, Eli,” Cressida begins. Is it just my imagination, or did her chair move closer to mine? “I heard you were in the military. That must have been very scary.”
I nod. “It can be, yes. Depends on the assignment and the location, but overall, I enjoyed my time in the service.” Up until the very end. “I ended my career as a Navy SEAL and would like to think I became the man I am today because of it.”
Adolfo waves a dismissive hand. “Technology provides most of the legwork in the field. Not the soldiers.”
My fist curls on the table. “That’s not—”
“But how were you able to join the American military if you’re British?” Cressida asks, her wide eyes appearing curious.
I take a sip of water to rein in my anger. “The Alarie Estate is my primary address. It’s where I grew up while attending school in the States. I’ve always considered it my home.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Madeleine fight back a soft smile before she brings her glass of red wine to her lips.
“Well, if you enjoyed it so much, then why aren’t you still doing it?” Cressida tilts her head to the side, batting her lashes as she waits for my answer.
“Well, I umm.” I clear my throat, trying not to think about that day.
My hand slides across the back of my neck, squeezing my tight muscles.
“I was kidnapped and then…tortured.” I swallow hard.
“And according to the government’s standards, my injuries sustained were too severe for me to perform my job adequately anymore. ”
“You were injured?” Madeleine asks softly, her brows furrowing together.
“No one told—” Her bright blue eyes widen, staring up at me.
She connects the pieces, remembering the burns across my back.
The ones she saw when I moved into her home.
And the same ones that are a constant reminder of a time in my life I wish I could forget.
“Finally, we’re practically starving over here!” Alastor scolds the waiter who appears beside me, placing salads in front of all of us.
I’m just about to cut into mine when I hear Mila speak for the first time tonight. “Don’t you think that dress is a little too revealing for a place like this, dear?”
Who is she talking about— My knife clatters onto my plate, silencing everyone around the table as I realize her eyes are fixated on Madeleine’s outfit.
It takes everything in me to control my temper as I watch Madeleine fidget with her dress, her skin turning a soft shade of pink.
“I thought it was suitable for tonight,” she says defensively.
“It looks very lovely to me,” Cressida adds.
“Hmm.” Mila purses her lips in clear disapproval. “It’s not very classy. I think it’s a bit too tight.”
“She’s right.” Alastor stares at Madeleine with disdain. “My fiancée shouldn’t be traipsing around like some common whore.”