I understood that Joel probably deserved to be treated like shit for what he did, but to be stripped of his shirt and punched for it? That was too much. A simple, “get the fuck out of my restaurant” would have sufficed.

The man Borden was dining with seemed to be doing most of the talking, and Borden responded in short sentences that I could barely hear.

“This would benefit you very much, Mr Borden,” he adamantly said.

“I disagree.”

“You would make a lot of money.”

“I already have money.”

“You can never have enough.”

“I disagree.”

“Well then what can I do to convince you to invest?”

“If I haven’t been convinced by now, it’s unlikely you can do anything.”

After several minutes, the man then stood up, throwing his napkin on the table out of frustration and left. Not even seconds passed before a waitress came around and quickly cleared up the table, and it was then she motioned me over.

The eyes of almost every person in the room were latched onto me on my way to his table. Borden, who hadn’t looked once at the man he dined with just minutes prior, suddenly looked up at me, and every head in our vicinity turned away in a blink of an eye. Just like the diner, his power was thick in the air. I felt this ominous feeling of helplessness as I grew nearer to him.

I tried my best not to tremble when I took a seat.

“Your food’s being re-cooked,” he stated, all casual-like.

“I’m not hungry,” I replied calmly, now avoiding his eyes. I kept mine pinned on the napkin on the table in front of me.

I heard him shift around in his chair. “You barely ate your food. You’re poor. You’re thin. You’re obviously hungry.”

“After your outdoor display, that’s sort of the last thing I am.”

“My outdoor display wasn’t as atrocious as it could have been had you not stopped me.”

I glimpsed at him, sharply replying, “Joel didn’t deserve to be punched like that, Mr Borden.”

“He disrespected my employee and called me a lunatic in my restaurant within earshot of my diners. Nobody gets away with that. I have a reputation to maintain, Emma. If I let little things like that pass, it’ll create a snowball effect. Shit gets ugly fast. That’s just the way it works, doll.”

“Besides,” he added, with a flicker of disgust on his face, “that doctor has quite a few alarming secrets. Fetishes that are… difficult to swallow, to put it mildly. You should be thanking me for ridding you of a weirdo. Wouldn’t want to find your shoes on the side of a highway anytime soon, right?”

While that was disturbing, after my talk with Joel I wasn’t all that surprised.

“How do you know that?” I wondered aloud, studying him closely.

He paused. “Because I wanted to know that.”

My brows came together in thought. “But did you already know? Or…” Or did you find out I was going to go to fucking dinner with the guy and had him checked out?

He seemed to understand my question, and he chose to respond with a small smirk that could have meant a million different things.

“Okay,” I whispered to myself, looking away and back to the napkin that didn’t glare or intimidate or, more importantly, entice me.

Silence filled the space between us for a few minutes. I kept thinking about how much I wanted to get out of here and be home. I would never be on this side of town again. Hell, I doubted I’d leave my unit for the next six months besides going to work.

A fresh plate of my order was placed in front of me, freshly cooked and smelling divine. I snuck another glance at Borden and then quickly down at my plate. He was staring hard at me, studying me with a kind of depth I’d never been subject to. It wasn’t anything like Joel’s creepy stare either.

No, it was more.

There was also something in his hands, and another little glimpse showed it was the same plain zippo lighter he’d been toying with before. He circled it in his hands, and I wondered if he smoked. I certainly didn’t smell it on him when he kissed me… and ugh, why did I have to think about that all over again? Imagining that moment when I was near him made me uncomfortable and red. It also made me paranoid enough to think he knew I was thinking it.

“I wonder the odds of us being in the same restaurant after what happened,” he finally remarked. “Seems a little strange to me.”

It was strange, but now I looked at him suspiciously.

“Where else am I going to find you next?” he asked. “The place I have breakfast? At my work? I’d rather you tell me now to avoid future surprises.”

I raised a brow in my confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“I wonder if you’re something other than a waitress. What do you say to that?”

Oh, hell. He thought I was a cop? “I’d say you’re very paranoid. Again.”

He shifted again in his seat, and a small chuckle sounded out of his throat. I couldn’t help another glimpse in his direction. His ocean blue eyes were still fixed on me, and he looked amused, and that amusement made him look deceptively friendly.

He had remarkable genes in the looks department. It was such a shame he was a psycho. I had to remind myself of that over and over again. I wondered what happened to that man in those old photos of him. What changed him into this scary guy in front of me now?

I shook my head, trying to stifle my irritation. “If I was some cop, by the way, why the hell would I be a waitress working on the other side of town in a shop you don’t even own? Doesn’t make any sense whatsoever.”

“I’ve seen it before. Sexy women approach me all the time, carrying a wire, trying to get me to talk–”

“Do you want to search me? I’m wearing nothing but this pathetically small dress of which I can assure you has no empty space to accommodate a wire.”

“Are you giving me permission?”

I willed myself to look at him sternly now. It was important he knew I took offense to this pathetic paranoia of his. But when I saw the wicked gleam in his eyes and the smirk at the corners of his mouth, I was nothing short of infuriated.

He was toying with me.

Of course I wasn’t a cop.

Of course I wasn’t carrying a wire and following him around.

He wasn’t just scary now, he was also a complete asshole.