“What?” I scoff out a surprised snort, swallowing it back down as his pressure on the keys ramps up and he plays with more determination. “You asked Cliff to come in and tear me away from my date and bring me here, so you could tell me your ex kissed you?”
“He had totearyou away, did he?”
The snarl in his tone has the tips of my fingers tingling by my sides.
“What’s going on? I don’t understand.”
“You wouldn’t because I’ve given you no reason to understand.” He snorts as he continues to play the piece so beautifully, like he doesn’t even need to think. His fingers glide over the keyseffortlessly.
“I—”
“Shekissedme. And she tried to undo my pants, telling me she was going to suck me off.”
I recoil. “Are you drunk? Why are you telling me this?”
“I’m notdrunk,” he snaps, sneering like the suggestion disgusts him.
“Then, what?—”
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you. On your date with Vincent. How was it? Are you going to marry him and have his babies?” he snipes cruelly.
“What?”
What the hell has gotten into him?
“If you must know, it was great. We talked about music. He made me laugh and feel relaxed. And I even saw an apartment block for sale on the ride there and took a photo of it to show you for Molly’s portfolio.”
I cross my arms, irritation slithering up my spine as he continues playing, not even having the manners to look at me after he ended my evening prematurely because for some unknown reason it suited him. He’s so used to people bending to his whim. But I can’t figure out what his angle is right now, and why he’s being like this.
“Not interested in whatever building you saw, Tate,” he says without an ounce of enthusiasm.
“But it was?—”
“Not. Interested,” he repeats.
He’s an asshole. An uptight, arrogant prick. So what? He thinks because I saw it that it can’t possibly be a good investment? That the area can’t be right? That I wouldn’t know what I’m talking about?
“I live here, too. I know the good neighborhoods,” I argue. “I?—”
“I only bought your building to get you new dryers,” hehisses, moving seamlessly into another song on the piano, his playing unaffected despite his harsh tone.
“What? Why?”
“Because!” he thunders, his lips twisting into a grimace as he plays.
“Because what?” I step closer.
“Thatuniform,” he spits, like it’s a curse word.
The music flows effortlessly around him. It’s as if the angrier he gets, the better he plays.
“Oh my God! Because you hated it that much? Because it offended you that much when it shrunk? That’s…wow…” I blow out a breath, all of my nerves from being around him evaporating as they’re replaced with white-hot rage.
How dare he?
I’m never going to let him make me feel intimidated or awkward again.
“Nice way to tear a woman down, hey? Tell her you hate clothing that shows the shape of her body. So I have hips and breasts. And my thighs touch in the middle. So fucking what?”
