Chapter 32
Elodie
What does she actually look like?
I imagine Susan must have dark hair. Dorian seems to like women with dark hair. Brunettes, mostly. Catherine was a brunette. So was Grace.
“I think the members would enjoy a poetry night,” Parker says lightly, resting his hands on the table.
I hardly remember what he’s talking about. I hope I don’t appear rude. He’s been nice to me. It’s not his fault I can’t think straight.
Dinner with him was possibly the worst idea I could’ve had today. But no worse than going to see Dorian.
I feel like I just made everything worse. Like my visit backfired on me. I thought I was taking the reins in my own hands, taking charge in my own way.
But now…
Susan happened again.
The stupid thing is, it was my own fault. Number one, I shouldn’t even have been there. Number two, I shouldn’t be upset.
It just hurt more because of him. Because of the stupid night we shared together—our wedding night.
“I could go with something more interactive.” Parker stares back at me, and again I feel bad. I think he might have said something before that, but I have no idea what it was. He looks like he’s waiting for me to answer, and I have no idea what to say.
I smile and nod, hoping it’s enough. “I can’t imagine a Jane Austen fan who doesn’t love poetry.”
Hopefully that answer will serve me and satisfy him for now. Right now, I know two things: Parker is planning this event for his society, and he wanted to talk about it. Saying anything off the top of my head with the words Jane Austen in it can’t go too wrong.
I ran into him at the mall. Of all the places I could’ve seen him, I never thought it would be there. I was actually supposed to go back to school, but I was so worked up after leaving Dorian that I decided to go window-shopping instead. I needed something to get my mind off the stress.
It was while I was in a bookshop that I ran into Parker.
Or maybe he ran into me.
I’m not quite sure.
It just sort of happened.
One moment, I was looking at the new releases and considering picking up a new thriller to read. The next, I was staring face-to-face with Parker.
He noticed straight away that I wasn’t myself. I couldn’t hide it then any more than I can now.
Parker grins at me and gives me a sympathetic look. “You seem far away, Elodie. Perhaps I was wrong to drag you out to dinner.”
I straighten and shake my head. “Not at all. I’m just a little tired.”
And that’s probably why I shouldn’t have agreed to it.
Though he was very insistent. He said he’d feel bad leaving me in the store looking the way I did. I can only imagine what I must’ve looked like for him to say that.
I agreed, though reluctantly.
Had it been another day, I might have had more strength to say no.
Not so much today.
Thinking about Dorian and Susan made me weak, honestly.
I can’t wait to go home and sleep.
Home.
Once again, the place feels like Dorian’s, not mine.
I’ve come to realize that the house doesn’t feel like mine when he doesn’t feel like mine.
Given how few times he’s actually felt like mine, it’s laughable.
“How about some dessert?” Parker seems genuinely to be trying to cheer me up.
“I’ll have something small.”
I’m just trying to be nice. After dessert, I’ll head home.
We’ve been here for a little over an hour already. I didn’t speak much when the food came. The time was broken up by eating. I couldn’t even appreciate the English-style food. It tasted like nothing to me.
Parker raises his hand and signals for the waiter to come over. Instantly, the waiter marches across with his notepad in hand, ready to take our order.
“Can we have the dessert menu, please?” Parker asks.
“Sure thing, sir.”
The waiter hurries away to get it.
Parker turns back to me and looks me over curiously. “I may be overstepping again.” He leans on his elbows. “But I’ve considered that I may have upset you the other day when I mentioned Dorian’s unsavory habits.”
“No, don’t worry about that.” How could I have him feeling guilty when what he told me was true? If anything, he was probably just trying to warn me.
No, I did not think that made him a saint. I was still sure he had ulterior motives. But it was a warning nonetheless.
“You seem like a nice person. I just didn’t want him to take advantage.” It must be habit. He places his hand on his heart, like the other day.
“I know my cousin. And I’m sure you must have read about the Grace Astor scandal.”
“Yes. I am fully aware of it.”
“Good. It’s good to be open-minded.”
I was open-minded, so open-mindedness I was wondering why he was so interested in making Dorian look bad to me.
He reaches across the table and takes my hand.
My first instinct is to pull away, but I don’t want to embarrass him or look like I’m being awkward, so I keep my hand there.
“I’m here if you need me.” His piercing eyes bore into me with more than just the offer of comfort. “For whatever you need. Whether that’s books, talking about England, or anything else.” His voice drops on the last two words. And there’s no mistake in the implication in those words.
My stomach squeezes at the same time the hairs on the back of my neck rise. “Thank you. That’s kind of you.” I try to conceal the discomfort in my voice, but the slight quiver betrays me.
He notices.
I attempt to move my hand but his grips tightens. Not threatening, more like he wants me to pay attention.
“Don’t be fooled by charm, Elodie.” Parker cocks his head.
It’s funny, Dorian said the same thing about him.
“Get your hands off her right now!”
The boom of a voice carries across the room. Everyone turns in that direction, and all conversation ceases.
I look up, stunned to see a ferocious-looking Dorian making a beeline toward us.
My entire body goes rigid. I barely register when Parker removes his hand from mine. He looks just as shocked to see Dorian too.
Like me, he thought, Dorian would be well on his way to Chicago. Of on another business trip to make even more money than he already has.
What on earth is he doing here?
Someone must have told him we were here. What I don’t get is why that would interrupt his oh so very important trip.
He doesn’t seem to like Parker. That much has always been clear. But does he hate him that much to get pissed about me being here with him?
From the snarl on his face that grows more vicious the closer he gets, I get my answer.
Just the sight of him sets me on edge, and I hate the way my heart betrays me with that small, reckless skip.
Parker straightens in that aloof manner you’d expect to find on a distinguished businessman.
“Dorian.” His voice reflects the same mannerism—cool and unbothered. “Thought you’d be in Chicago by now.”
“So you thought you’d use the chance to take my wife out?” Dorian is so loud, everyone is looking at him.
“It’s just dinner—”
“You have a real death wish, you know that?” Dorian sneers, his eyes bulging with rage.
“Dorian, please calm down,” I cut in. “We were just having dinner.”
To my annoyance, he doesn’t even look at me.
His eyes are fixed on Parker. And he really does look like he’s going to kill him.
His hands are at his sides, balled into tight fists, his shoulders are squared, ready for battle, and his eyes have a murderous look in them that makes my heart gallop in terror.
God what am I supposed to do?
“You need to watch yourself and stop acting like a fucking asshole.” Parker adopts a holier than thou tone, even I know is a bad idea.
“Sorry, but no.” Dorian seethes and the next thing I know, he grabs Parker’s steak knife and throws it back onto the table.
I shriek as the knife slams into the table, burying itself between his middle and ring finger.
The blood drains from Parker’s face and he goes so still I fear his soul has left his body. His eyes flick down to the knife, analyzing just how close he came to losing his finger.
His gaze returns to Dorian but Parker remains perfectly still.
“It’s time you had a rude awakening,” Dorian continues, teeth bared.
I bolt up, my heart pounding against my throat. “Dorian, stop it.”
Again, he ignores me. But I don’t even get the chance to be annoyed. He grabs my steak knife next and gets up in Parker’s face.
Out the corner of my eye I catch the restaurant manager trying to signal security.
“Dorian, my God, stop it.” I step closer.
Dorian taps the tip of the knife to Parker’s nose. “I am one crazy motherfucker. Do not fuck with me. Come near my wife again and I will destroy you.” He taps once more then flips the knife over, and slams it down. It lands, smack between Parker’s legs.
I never thought Parker had it in him to look so terrified. He seems so put together. But I can hardly be surprised. Dorian has proven today that he’s more than just unhinged.
Dorian straightens and finally looks at me. “We’re going home.”
Those eyes rivet to mine and suddenly the weight of embarrassment crashes into me. My cheeks burn with it, then the heat flushes over from head to toe.
I should stand my ground. I’m not a dog or some kind of animal he can command. But I remember the contract and the show we’re supposed to be putting on for the world. Anything I say is going to start an argument so I hold my tongue, grab my bag, and barge past him instead.
He catches up to me just as the security guard arrives. The man tries to talk to Dorian, but is rebuffed with one death stare from my villainous husband that stops the words from coming out of his mouth.
We leave the restaurant. I spot Keith, Dorian’s main driver, ahead by the lamppost. He’s leaning against the Bentley.
He greet us with his usual good-natured smile. But it falters the moment we get close and he sees the fury on our faces.
I do however manage to crack the faintest of smiles before climbing into the back of the car. Dorian slides in besides me and gives the order for Keith to go.
Moments later we’re on the way.
Dorian glares at me but I keep my gaze out the window, hoping the fury simmering beneath my skin will calm. It’s not likely.
I’m not just mad about the restaurant. It’s everything else.
I’m glad when he says nothing. It’s because of Keith. I noticed for the few times I’ve been around him that Dorian doesn’t lose his cool around his staff.
It’s just me he’s a dick to, whether he speaks to me or not.
The car continues down the road, and Dorian’s eyes never leave me.
I don’t give him the satisfaction of my attention.
The more he stares, the more I ignore him.
But the silence between us isn’t quiet.
It’s waiting.
Waiting to explode.