Page 77 of Abundance of Obsession

“Do you know any others?”

“Just Italian, German, French, and Mandarin.”

Just? What on earth?

Now I’m so impressed I can hardly express it.

“Mandarin?” While I can understand learning the other languages as they’re relatively common, this last one doesn’t fit in with anything at all.

Eli shrugs as if it’s no big deal. “I was bored between classes. I figured it would impress the girls.”

I erupt in laughter because you could say he’s near to the truth.

In all this, I also see that Eli doesn’t open up to people easily. He doesn’t talk about the things that set him apart. Doesn’t brag. He’s ambitious, smart, and doesn’t go flaunting that fact.

Our conversation flows on completely naturally. In his company, we’re in a bubble. He’s genuinely interested in my life, my past, my aspirations, and my dreams. And I enjoy being the center of his attention.

We’re slowly finishing dinner when Eli freezes. His gaze leaves me and focuses on something behind my back.

I turn around for a second, but it’s hard to tell what has intrigued him so much since we aren’t alone in the restaurant. “What’s wrong? Did you see someone you know?” I ask, but he remains silent.

My mood turns somber because I have a sinking feeling that something is terribly wrong.

“Excuse me for a moment,” he says and gets up, placing his napkin on the table.

You can sense a tension in the air that wasn’t there a moment ago. Eli’s shoulders are straight, his jaw locked, and his biceps tense… It all looks like he’s getting ready for some kind of attack.

When Eli walks away, I turn around and follow him with my eyes.

Three tables away sits an older couple, a woman and a man. There’s nothing on their table, so I assume they’ve recently arrived.

The man, despite being much older than us, has blond hair slicked back. His tanned complexion suggests a recent trip, because I don’t think this is his everyday appearance. A tie hangs at the base of his neck, contrasting with a white shirt. It looks elegant.

The woman accompanying him is a red-haired beauty with delicate features and a petite figure. She’s wearing a dress covered in a million gold sequins. To top it off, gold high-heeled sandals.

She’s the first to notice Eli walking toward them, and a smile spreads across her lips.

She knows him.

Seeing her reaction, the man follows her gaze. His whole face lights up at the sight of Eli.

“Son,” he says loudly enough that I can hear him too.

Eli stops at their table; his knuckles are white with tension. He says something to him, but his voice is hushed.

Just like the woman’s, the smile vanishes from his face. He listens to what his son has to say. All his attention is directed at him.

Whatever is going on, the atmosphere becomes tense and awkward.

The woman looks around quickly to see if anyone else is listening, and then, her face red, lowers her gaze to her knees.

At this moment, I also don’t know whether I should do something. The exchange between the two men attracts the attention of other guests, their eyes prying. They’re hungry for drama, like so many people in this city.

To make matters worse, one of Eli’s fists slams into the table, and the vase of flowers wobbles.

The man’s eyes, full of remorse, also look down, his face etched with guilt.

After a minute, Eli returns to our table. You can see the fury simmering behind his eyes, a clear indicator of his rage; he’s breathing heavily. He’s making an effort to restrain himself, but the results are not promising. I get up before he reaches me and sling my purse over my shoulder.