“What are you doing?”I hissed under my breath.
“We can’t have you fainting from hunger before I’ve decided what to do with you now, can we?” he replied smoothly, and in a playful way that made me shiver against him.
The casual, teasing tone unsettled me more than dominance would have. But then he leaned down slightly, just enough that his voice brushed against my ear instead of carrying across the room.
“What do you drink?”
My traitorous brain scrambled to function.
“Vanilla latte,” I murmured like I was on autopilot.
He stepped forward with me as the line shifted again, his knuckles rapping lightly against the glass display case as he examined the rows of pastries inside. Cinnamon rolls glazed thick with icing. Croissants dusted in sugar. Chocolate muffins bursting at the top.
“And for food?” he prompted, glancing down at me, and the nearness of him made coherent thoughts nearly impossible.
“Cinnamon roll, please,” I replied, managing some semblance of politeness this time. He nodded once, then looked to the barista with composed authority.
“One vanilla latte, one cinnamon roll, and a black coffee, please,” he ordered, and I couldn’t help my comment from slipping from under my breath before I could stop it,
“Of course he takes it black.”
His mouth curved at that, and something warm brushed the back of my neck as he leaned slightly closer again.
“Is that surprising?”
“No, just predictable,” I answered honestly, and a quiet chuckle that vibrated behind me was my only reply. One that sounded far too pleased by my comment, making me question why?
And that was the most unsettling part about all this. It wasn’t that he had followed me in here or the way he stood too close. No, it was that he behaved as though this had always been the plan and the only reason he let me out of his car in the first place.
He paid without looking at the total, telling her to keep the change that ended up being double the price of our order. I wanted to scoff when the girl looked up at him like he was some handsome superhero that had exchanged a cape for a business suit. Although, he paid her little attention, instead picking up our tray and walking away from the counter, leaving me to follow.
The café was even busier now, every table occupied with voices overlapping in comfortable chaos. I instinctively searched for seating and found none, but Oblivion didn’t appear concerned. He simply paused just inside the seating area, scanning the room with quiet precision, and not in the least bit hurried. I found myself watching him instead of the tables.
“What are you doing?” I asked softly.
His gaze shifted toward the far corner where a small two-seat table sat tucked against the window, half-shadowed from the main traffic of the café. Most likely the most intimate and secluded table in the place. One currently occupied by a man hunched over a laptop, an empty cup abandoned beside him.
Oblivion’s expression didn’t change as he made the smallest motion with his hand, barely more than a subtle flex of his fingers. And across the room, the man froze. Then, without hesitation, he closed his laptop, slid it into his bag, and gathered his things like some mindless drone. Just like the way he rose from the table as though he was sleepwalking, going through the motions of simply existing. He even dropped his empty cup at the counter on his way past and exited without once glancing back.
I stared, my mouth dropping open as I realized what just happened. As for Oblivion, he began walking toward the now vacant table and, once more, I was left to follow, now asking,
“Did you just make him move?”
He glanced down at me and gave me the faintest wink. And damn him for making it look too fucking sexy that my ovaries started to practically sing like some Disney princess that just found her prince.
“That is so unethical,” I muttered, though I followed him anyway.
He set the tray down and, with infuriating composure, pulled the chair out for me. I hesitated only a second before sitting, wondering now when I would become just another mindless drone. When he would tire of me and simply force his will upon me. But more than anything else, I asked myself…why hadn’t he done it already?
I then remembered what my coffee was missing, so before he could take his seat, I was up and out of mine. I felt him pause, at the ready to react as he watched me walk toward the condiment station nearby. No doubt only relaxing when he saw his prisoner only wanted some sugar. I quickly grabbed a small handful before sitting back down. I then caught the corner of his mouth twitching as he eyed the unhealthy amount of packets now piled up next to my cup. Not that I was surprised, as he seemed to notice everything when it came to me. The only thing I didn’t yet know was why?
I peeled open the first packet and poured it in, trying to ignore his gaze. Especially when I added the second and then the third before, yes, the fourth one went in. All the while he reclined in his chair, observing me with a quiet, unsettling fascination.
“A little coffee with your sugar this morning?” he remarked lightly before adding,
“No wonder you were desperate.”
I paused mid-pour and looked up.
