“What. Did. He. Say?”
She swallows. “He... He said that I have you wrapped around my finger. That I’m your sous chef because...”
“What?” And then, so much softer, “What, Eden?”
“Because I’m your favorite plaything. That I spread my legs for you like a slut.”
Something inside him snaps. Alexander’s been holding back his rage for so long that he’d started to go numb. His heart is pounding a mile a minute. This is officially too much for him to handle. Between Sebastian and then Palton and now Hector... He’s sure he might die at an early age due to stress.
The corners of Eden’s eyes turn red with the threat of tears. “But it’s not true. I worked... I worked really hard to get here. Tobehere.”
“I know, I know.”
Another car whizzes by, this time the driver rolling down the window to scream profanities at their stalled car. Alexander knows they have to move. This isn’t safe.
It’s also not safe to drive when he’s on the brink of a mental breakdown because how dare Hector treat Eden that way?
His mind’s already made up.
Hector has to go.
Alexander finds the strength, and—by some miracle—the control he needs to get Eden the rest of the way home without accidentally running any lights because all he sees is red. He parks by the curb, as always, and kisses Eden tenderly before she gets out. She gets out of the car and dips down, looking him in the eye.
“Don’t do anything dumb,” she reminds. “If I can’t kill Palton, then you can’t kill Hector.”
“Who’s going to stop me?”
“We can deal with it tomorrow.”
“I’lldeal with it tomorrow. You have Sunday and Monday off, remember?”
“Still, I—”
“I promise, Eden. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”
“But—”
“You just go home. You relax. You forget everything he said because none of it’s true, you hear me?”
She nods slowly. “Okay.”
“You’re the most talented chef I know, so Hector’s opinion means jack shit.”
“Okay.”
“Feel free to call or text me if you need anything, alright? Anything at all. I promise I’ll answer.”
“Alright.” She manages a small smile. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, sweetheart.”
Alexander doesn’t drive away until after Eden’s safely inside. He sits there for a minute, maybe two, collecting himself.
He’s never felt like this before. Insulted. Furious. Blood-thirsty.
What he wants is to drive over to Hector’s place and give him a piece of his mind. No. That’s still not enough. Alexander wants to tear him apart and then have Hector groveling for forgiveness at Eden’s feet. Nobody gets away with treating his girl like—
His girl.
