CHAPTER 18 – ANTONIO
My heart is still hammering. My hands are still shaking. Something stirs low in my stomach, and I recoil in horror. That needs to be smothered immediately.
Maria materializes beside me, smiling wickedly.
“Since when has Caspian Stone been so besotted with you?”
My skin betrays me immediately. Caspian besotted with me? No way.
“It was a prank,” I retort .
“For the bros,” I add, as if the emphasis alone could save me.
Maria looks at me with pity.
“Right. Men traditionally prank other men by blushing, stuttering, and fleeing the scene like startled prey.”
She gasps and plucks something off the table.
“Madonna! This is a hundred-dollar bill.”
My stomach drops.
“That’s fifty percent. That’s criminal.”
I glare at Maria as if she were somehow responsible for this.
“He’s clearly disturbed.”
“Or devoted.”
I scowl.
“If he ever comes back, I’ll rip that bill into confetti and garnish his tiramisu with it.”
“Or we could accept the money.” Maria shoves the bill to the tip jar and shoots me a sly look. “Did you know he studies restorative justice?”
No, I did not know that.
It’s probably a lie anyway.
A decoy.
Something rich people claim to study so everyone thinks they’re good.
“I’ve never heard a single relationship rumor about him,” she muses, and I hate the illogical surge of satisfaction it gives me. “Although I’ve heard that—never mind.”
“Exactly,” I say in a huff. “I don’t want to talk about him.”
My sister barrels on anyway, listing charity runs, mentoring programs, elderly neighbors he’s helped. Baby goats he’s saved in slow motion.
Okay, maybe I imagined the last one, but I wouldn’t put it past him.
I grab a rag.
“All I hear is blah blah privilege,” I retort.
Smirking, Maria starts cleaning tables.
I follow suit, scrubbing aggressively.
None of this makes sense. I’m confused. And angry. Mostly I’m furious at him for being so distractingly, stupidly charming—and for looking at me like that.
Like I mattered to him.
“I’m not letting hazel eyes rewrite history,” I mutter, and scrub harder.