Chapter Six #2
“She hit you?” Ares looks incredulous.
“When? Where?” Bryce never said, and I never noticed.
“A while ago in the parking garage.” When we continue to stare, Bryce adds, “It was before I found out Fiona was pregnant.”
Typical. Mom always claims she loves us, but ultimately it’s just about her own selfish needs.
“I swear to God, when I see her—” Suddenly the fine hair on the back of my neck bristles. I stiffen, scanning the restaurant, and spot Klein walking behind the hostess.
The tension drains from my shoulders, but the prickling sensation lingers.
She’s holding tiger lilies. What are they for? Is she here to meet with her fiancé and her family? Giving a little gift to commemorate their engagement is so her, but the idea sits badly in my belly.
And what is she doing here in the first place?
She shouldn’t even be in this restaurant.
She’s allergic to seafood, and Chinese cuisine is known to use a lot of seafood and seafood-derived ingredients.
When I take Klein out to lunch to discuss her performance and quarterly metric goals, I always select restaurants where she can eat safely.
Shouldn’t her fiancé show at least that much consideration?
Maybe not. He couldn’t even get the ring sized right. Careless son of a bitch.
She sits at a table occupied by a party of three.
I recognize the blonde there—some model I reviewed a couple of contracts for when she was younger and fresher, before Klein started working for me.
I try to recall her name. Kiara? Karina?
Whatever. She made an impression because she spent more time trying to come on to me than listening to my explanations about the legal terms. Her mother, present at the meeting, beamed like she couldn’t be more thrilled her barely legal child was acting like a cheap ho.
Some months ago, I ran into her at a social event.
She acted excited to see me, and I smiled to avoid any awkwardness.
Since that encounter, I’ve seen her at several places, a little too often to be mere coincidence.
I just ignore her, since she’s too dumb to be working for Mom or Harvey.
She’s harmless, just annoying. Like a buzzing fly.
Does Klein know them? If so, how? She’s nothing like those weirdos.
“What are you looking at?” Ares asks.
“Klein’s here,” I say without taking my eyes off her. She’s so pretty with the flowers. The overhead lights hit the ring on her finger just right, making it glint. She adjusts the band position. I can’t help thinking it again: What kind of loser proposes with a ring that doesn’t fit?
Maybe that explains the tight set of her mouth.
I’d be pissed if somebody gave me a shitty gift like that.
Her smile is so pasted on, it looks painful.
But her dinner companions don’t seem to notice as they speak.
Karina, or whatever her name is, takes the tiger lilies from Klein and puts them aside like some sort of spam. How rude.
“Didn’t you say she’s allergic to seafood?” Bryce squints at the table. “Huh. That really is her.”
“Yeah.” I grind my teeth when the people at the table look at her ring. Is she trying to show off her new relationship status? She must really love the asshole who couldn’t get her ring size right. Maybe it’s a metaphor—his dick’s too small to fill her.
No. Don’t think about her naked with another guy. Actually, why am I thinking about Klein being naked at all? She’s a nice girl. Deserves a nice, normal guy with no baggage and no hang-ups. Somebody as sweet as her, not a man who might be genetically patterned like a sociopathic mafia princess.
But part of me wants to argue. What if I’m like Mom in everything except marriage?
Yeah, bet Mom thought she’d be great at it until she decided to kidnap her own kids.
“Stop staring at her like that. You look like you’re starving. The food’s on your plate, not between her boobs,” Bryce says.
“I’m not staring at her breasts.” My tone is testy. I wouldn’t disrespect her like that.
“Fine.” Bryce rolls his eyes. “You were staring at her lips.”
I frown harder. “No, I was looking at her smile.”
A corner of Ares’s mouth quirks. “She sure has a nice couple of smiles.”
I shake my head, ignoring my brothers’ teasing.
How can they not notice the tension pouring out of her?
Her shoulders are taut, and the smile is stiff.
The poor girl hasn’t touched anything on the table except some tea.
What kind of shitty people invite you to a place where you can’t eat, then proceed to feast in front of you?
Thankfully, Karina isn’t a client anymore. I quit representing her after those awkward come-ons. And I wouldn’t want Klein to have to deal with a woman that unpleasant.
Someone walks right into my sight. My heart stops, then starts racing, adrenaline spreading with each beat.
Harvey.
His dark brown hair is slicked back from his face, complete with soulless, hooded amber eyes and a mouth that always bears a fake smile.
He tries to give off an air of civility by wearing dark suits.
But tailored clothing can’t hide the air of danger about him or the cruel savagery he’s been known to unleash.
A sleek woman on his arm says something with a grin. Her hand rests on his chest, as though she’s soothing a wild, unpredictable animal. The man is just as capable of the kind of unhinged violence as Mom. After all, they’re siblings.
“Harvey,” I mutter.
“What?” Ares swivels, his body immediately coiling tight.
“Where?” Bryce turns, then stiffens. “What the hell is he doing here?”
“I’m going to murder that son of a bitch,” Ares says. He’s still bitter about Harvey drugging him. You can never be careful enough with the Dunkel family.
Harvey keeps on walking, smile bright. He sees us, points with his index, middle and ring fingers, then waves like a beauty pageant contestant about to walk off the stage. Then he jerks his chin at Klein’s table.
I glance over, wondering what the hell he’s been looking at. My gut tightens when I spot a strange woman hovering there.
I don’t like it that Harvey specifically brought my attention there—he doesn’t do anything just for the hell of it. Why is Klein on his radar? And who’s the pregnant woman, anyway?
Suddenly a man inserts himself between the woman and Klein, then spins around to face her with all the aggression of a rabid dog.
I almost do a double take; it’s a familiar face that I used to take great pleasure in punching, but there’s no way I can ever forget the beady eyes and the smarmy smirk on his thin lips.
Chad Buell, one of the greatest dickheads I ever had the misfortune of knowing.
I jump to my feet.