Chapter Twenty-Eight
Elio
About an hour later, the woman I considered my partner was taking too much pleasure in my awful day.
I’d already concluded that she had terrible table manners, and it didn’t bother me anymore.
The glare I sent her didn’t have any weight as she tried to stifle her laughter, her eyes going red with the efforts she was making to hold it in.
“I really don’t know why I like you,” I stated, shaking my head as she raised a hand as if she were stopping the laughter, but when she tried to speak, laughter was all that came out.
“I’m sorry,” she wheezed, her face red. “I’m sorry, I’m just—I’m just trying to picture it. You”—laugh—“falling from”—more laughter—“the bathtub”—a wheeze. “It’s so—it’s so not—I can’t picture it.”
“People fall, Zahra. People fall all the time. And mine was almost fatal; you should not be laughing. I could have died.”
She sucked in a shaky breath. “I’m glad you didn’t, but—do you happen to have a—a camera in the bathroom? I just—I gotta see that shit for myself.”
“You are a very terrible person,” I pointed out.
She busted out laughing again, drawing attention from people around us.
She blew out a breath in an attempt to calm herself. “What? People falling is—there’s just something about it that—I don’t know—especially you? Mr. Never-careless-always-careful-and-proper.”
I leveled her with a stare. “I must admit that I can never be too careful. I am only human, after all.”
“Oh, now you’re trying to seem more human to placate yourself.”
“And you are becoming less human by bullying me with your laughter. On what is supposed to be my birthday.”
She rolled her eyes. “Swear that if it was me who had that bathroom accident, you wouldn’t be laughing at my expense.”
“I wouldn’t. Because, unlike you, I would hate to see you hurt.”
She raised a brow. “You wouldn’t try to picture it, not even one fucking bit? Lie and tell me that you wouldn’t.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“See? That’s a lie.”
I shook my head. “Why do I even try to indulge you?”
“Because I’m the most sensible person you know?” She batted her eyelashes.
“You would really hate to hear my thoughts right now,” I told her, evoking a small laugh.
“You know … this is, like, our first real date, like, we came out for the actual purpose of going on a date.”
“I thought it was for my birthday?” I asked.
“Yeah, it is, but this place is a little fancy, and I reserved it two days ago. So it’s a birthday first date. I’ve never had one of those.”
I smiled. “I think that statement should be rephrased. You’ve never had one of me.”
“Look who’s getting cocky now.” She chuckled.
I shrugged.
“So what do you do on your birthdays? I know you don’t celebrate, but what do you do?” she asked.
“Get hurt, unintentionally. Almost every birthday of mine. It’s like one of those curses in paranormal books.”
“Paranormal books? What’s paranormal?” she asked with curiosity in her eyes. She truly did not know what paranormal meant.
“Someone or something supernatural.”
Her brows shot up. “Oh … like, horror things, scary things?”
“Along those lines, yes.”
“Well, I think you’re just jinxing yourself. Sometimes our minds unknowingly manifest these thoughts, and our lives take hold of them, and we jinx ourselves without knowing.”
I nodded, seeing sense in what she was saying, although the feeling did not touch the surface of what I actually felt. I did not comment on that because the last thing I wanted was to trouble her with how I truly felt.
Our conversation veered into another direction. I tried to keep my mind on track with her—often getting lost in my body and coming right back whenever she laughed or covered the side of her mouth from others’ views when she wanted to eat messily because she couldn’t help herself.
Soon after, she excused herself to the restroom when our starter was cleared and the main courses came out.
I checked my phone, seeing a happy birthday text from Angelo and a picture of a package his mother had organized for me.
There was a birthday wish from Gemma, with tons of red hearts and a promise to shower me with presents when we saw each other again; there was also a small video clip from Gran Louisa.
It was a short happy birthday message and a reminder to bring Zahra over.
Still getting lost in the messages, I stopped when I felt Zahra’s presence. I turned my phone screen off, looking up to see she was just two feet away from me when a woman trying to leave a table bumped into her.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there.” Zahra apologized politely, but the woman, who looked like she had been angry before bumping into her, shot her a glare, muttering something in a language I didn’t understand.
From the way Zahra’s politeness quickly shifted to a frown, I knew it was something foul.
Zahra responded in the same language, a slight frown on her face.
The woman didn’t back down; she quickly sized her up and probably thought she could take her if worse came to worst. I picked up my fork, cut through the meat, watched the scene unfold, and eyed the man sitting at the table the woman had been bolting from; he was also watching the scene.
The woman responded to Zahra, firming her stance, the language falling out of her mouth obviously nothing pleasant.
Her pitch was increasing by the second, causing a scene.
Everyone was paying attention to what was happening, though I was sure nobody understood the back-and-forth unless they understood the language.
I saw the exact moment Zahra’s calm snapped; it was almost the same time the man stood up behind the woman, whispering something in her ear and cautiously looking around as if embarrassed.
When Zahra spoke, the venom in her voice could not be mistaken as anything other than anger, and with the way the woman’s eyes widened, I knew my little witch had struck a nerve.
Staff began to gather at the corners, needing clarification about what was happening.
The woman stepped forward. “What the fuck did you say?”
“You heard—”
Zahra was cut off when the woman pushed her, and almost like she had gotten the opening she had been waiting for, she moved to retaliate, but the worm by the woman’s back encircled his dirty hand around Zahra’s arm as if to hold her back from attacking his companion.
I looked away, the grip I had on my fork tightened, and I picked up the knife, forcefully slicing through the food on my plate as I spoke. “If you want to keep your hand, you will take it off my woman.”
My voice was surprisingly calm, audible enough to shift all attention to me.
The restaurant became silent, and my soldiers, who had been discreetly standing in the corners, all took a step forward, increasing the silence as I dug the fork into the slice of meat I had cut and then carefully carried it into my mouth.
I raised my gaze, chewing slowly, my eyes solely on the man.
“Would you like to keep your hand?”
The man swallowed, letting his hand drop as he tugged at the woman who now seemed afraid, same as everyone around who—telling from their features—were a bit uncomfortable with whatever aura I appeared to possess at the moment.
One last glance at Zahra, and the woman was about to oblige, taking a step back, but I shook my head, and her movement halted as my gaze settled on the man.
“You do not leave until you apologize,” I said.
Apprehension stained the woman’s eyes as she looked at the man.
A sigh came from Zahra. “It’s all right, E—”
“You do not leave until you apologize or you lose your hand. My patience is running very thin.” My voice covered Zahra’s, and I heard some gasps from tables nearby, but I was unbothered as I watched. I dug another cut into the meat, and ate it without looking away from the man.
He gulped down and turned to Zahra. “I’m sorry for—holding your arm. It was wrong of me.”
I nodded, looking away. “Some people do not understand basic manners,” I muttered, raising a dismissive hand, and I could feel my soldiers retreating to their positions.
The music in the restaurant that had lowered in volume increased suddenly, and the couple walked out hastily, heads down in embarrassment. Zahra resumed her position opposite me, the usual murmurs resuming.
“That was quite unnecessary; I was handling it fine,” she said.
I cut another piece of meat, not looking at her. “I know you were. My problem was not with the odd woman. It was with the worm behind her.”
“Still, it—”
“What language was that?”
“Polish,” she answered. “You didn’t have to—”
“You should drop the subject.” I put the piece I had cut in my mouth and, without looking at her, proceeded to cut another while I swallowed. “Or I will be very compelled to cut off more than his hand.”
“It’s not—”
“Do not remind me of the people I let live.”
Silence passed between us, and she sighed, dropping the topic.
We had recovered from the weird air around us, and I was driving us back to the compound after she had pushed us to go to the cinema to see a movie about people who were robots.
I had wondered briefly why she didn’t want us to go back just yet.
I was not really tired, but I was burnt out from being around people and things I did not want to see.
I honestly would have preferred a little quiet evening with her.
Still, I indulged her because she seemed to love going places with me, mainly because I was a novice to most normal things people do, and according to her, she gets a certain kind of high from being the one to introduce me to new things.
Right now, she was on her phone, looking quite relaxed, though her eyes were focused as she texted whoever she was texting.
I took one of my hands from the wheel, placing it on her thigh. “Everything all right?”
Her head snapped up to mine, wide eyes telling me everything was not all right. “Yeah!” she said almost too cheerfully. “I mean, no … not really … could you, um—drive a little faster? I really need to pee.”
I eyed her. “Indeed?”