There’s this itch under my ribs telling me to move.
“We need to go,” I say, straightening my blazer.
“What happened?” she asks.
“I didn’t say this date is over,” Anderson hisses, almost panicked that I’ll steal the most precious thing he’s ever laid his eyes on.
Michael and that Charlotte bitch—or whatever the fuck her name is—step closer, brows furrowed, ready to protect their precious king.
“Your father wants me back,” I reply, avoiding looking at this motherfucker.
“You’re not wearing any earpiece.” Charlotte nods. “How do you know?”
I give her a sidelong, lazy snide look. “I have a sixth sense.”
“You’re not leaving until I say so,” Anderson says, pushing himself to his feet.
Alright, relax, old man. Stand up that fast and your blood pressure’s gonna nosedive harder than your dignity.
“Calvano’s orders,” I hiss apathetically.
Isabella’s full lips twitch into a smirk she’s trying not to let show.
Anderson lets out an indignant huff and digs out his phone. “Let me call him myself.”
Son of a bitch.
I’ve had enough.
There’s a predator’s calm in me when I grab his wrist and push his phone down, while I shove my other hand in my blazer pocket. He goes statue-still, like he’s waiting for someone to tell him what to do.
Michael and the other chick press their muzzles to my temples, right and left. Like this is supposed to impress me. If anything, it just makes me want to laugh, then butcher them using simply the butter knife.
“Are you saying I’m lying?” I ask, staring into his wrinkled eyes with that dead-cold patience I get right before I do something everyone regrets.
“Yes,” he hisses, way braver than he has any right to be. He jerks his arm back, and my hand just tightens around it on instinct. “What are you doing?”
“There’s one thing you should know about me, Mr. Whatever-Your-Name-Is.” I tilt my head. “I lie all the time …honestly, I can’t help myself. But every now and then, I say something true.”
They both cock their guns’ hammers. Isabella gasps in fear, frozen.
“And when I do tell the truth, people always wish they’d listened sooner.” I tilt my head just slightly toward the door. “Now … think very carefully about which moment this is.”
“You have two guns pointing at you. What makes you think you’re faster than them?” Anderson says, his smile returning.
I swear, I’ll kill this rat, and I will enjoy it.
“What makes you so sure I walked in here alone?” My smile twitches. “What makes you think those snakes at the door didn’t miss something? Something small … something easy to ignore … something that could turn this place into confetti before you even finish that thought you’re choking on?” I lean in, eyes bright in the worst way. “Tell me I’m lying again.”
“Impossible,” Charlotte-bitch spits through her teeth.
I don’t bother looking at her. My smirk stays glued to fucker-Anderson.
“Try me. Please.”
His grin wavers. Ah, there it is.The fear.
That bitter, unmistakable metallic stench that hits the back of your throat. It’s almost funny how people think they can hide it.
