“I love cinnamon. It’s spicy with an unexpected sweetness. I eat it on practically everything.”
“Watch your fucking mouth.” I scowl.
“Chill, man,” Damon says.
“Talk to her again, and I’ll knock your teeth down your throat.”
“It’s okay,” Cin says.
“Afraid of a little competition?” Leonard asks, smirking.
“You’re not on my level and you couldn’t make it there even if you borrowed an airplane from Damon. But I tell you what—when I’m done with her, she’s all yours.”
Shocked gasps come from the occupants sitting around the table. It seems we’ve gained an attentive audience.
“Art,” Cin says, horrified.
“She’s open to spreading her legs for money.”
“You fucking bastard.”
“The truth is a hard pill to swallow, isn’t it?”
“Cinnamon tastes best when you put it directly on your tongue.” She licks her top lip while looking at Leonard.
I grip her arm, yanking her from the chair. “It’s time for us to go.”
“You’re hurting me.”
A hand clutches my shoulder. “Let her go.”
I swing around, grabbing the front of Leonard’s shirt. “Touch me again and you’re dead.”
“Gentlemen, please. This isn’t the place for this,” an older man says.
“You don’t have to go with him. I’ll take you home,” Leonard offers.
“She knows who her bread and butter is.” I glare at her. “You better fall in place behind me.”
I head towards the exit. She’ll always be a fucking whore, and I won’t forget that again.
I can’t believe he embarrassed me like that. It’s difficult to keep my tears at bay. How can he make me feel special one moment and in the next treat me as if I’m a piece of shit? I follow him out the door into heavy rain. The night was pleasantly mild when I arrived, but now the wind is blowing and thunder cracks across the turbulent sky. The storm mirrors my emotions, taking me back to the night we were reunited.
Art gives a ticket to the valet. “Make it quick.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Asshole! You made all those people think I’m a hooker!”
He clasps my jaw. “Shut your fucking mouth.”
“I won’t back down from you tonight.” I’m tired of his bullshit. If he wants a fight, I’ll give him one.
“You’ll be dealt with soon enough.”
“I despise you.”
But I love him too. My heart calls to his—it can’t beat without him. We continuously stake along the thin line between love and hate.
