Page 78 of Possessed By You
Maybe he wants to rob me. He’ll have no luck trying with Dimitri breathing down my neck.
“One point five million,” Benjamin says, appearing beside him. The man immediately straightens, removing his body from the counter, chuckling at my husband’s stealth-like re-entry. Benjamin gestures over to a trigger-happy Dimitri, who has prepared himself for an ordeal. “As our bodyguard would tell you. He helped pick it out.”
Benjamin’s warning to this poor guy takes a backseat to his admission about the ring on my finger. It’s massive, butholy hell.
The man is dumb enough to misread Benjamin’s threat. “Holy shit, man. What do you do? Can you get me a job?”
“Maybe if you stop hitting on my wife.”
“All right. All right.” He holds up his hands, smiling guiltily. He gestures to me. “You can’t blame a man for trying. I mean, she’s hot as hell.”
Benjamin places his hands on his shoulders, guiding him away. “Enjoy your game.”
Benjamin reclaims his seat when the man returns to his friends, glaring at how I’m snickering under my breath.
“Oh, you enjoyed that, did you?”
“It’s always nice to be found attractive.”
He clasps the nape of my neck. “Well, if you’re questioning it, then I’m obviously doing something very wrong.”
He says that, and yet he keeps his distance. I don’t remember the last time I kissed my husband—really kissed him. Perhaps it was the morning of the accident, in the throes of passion and lust, just moments after waking.
I don’t question whether my husband finds me attractive. Benjamin looks at me as if I were the last sweet piece of candy in the dish. Starting from the moment I met him, he was gracious and obvious in his desire for me. He made an unsure girl appreciate her reflection, one that had been torn to shreds by a malicious, abusive man. What I question is why does he feel the need to hold back now?
I pick up a wing so I won’t hear Benjamin bemoan my lack of self-regard. Dimitri doesn’t leave my side, doing his best to be invisible to us, but a danger to everyone else.
Benjamin is signing the check when Dimitri hops out of his seat.
“Sir.”
Another man from the group has approached and now has the solid wall of Dimitri’s hand against his chest, a warning.
“How about you go back to your seat?”
“How about no?” the man snaps back, clearly far more intoxicated than the other one. “My friend told me we’re among celebrities. Came over to get a picture.”
“As I said,” Dimitri forces through his gritted teeth, “you should go back to your seat.”
The man is tall, though much thinner than Dimitri or even Benjamin. There’s a dark bruise under his eye. He peers at Benjamin, who has a firm hand on my back, urging me up without a word. It’s clear the man has been here a while. The smell of liquor is reeling off of him all the way to us.
“We’re on vacation. We’d prefer no photographs. Thanks for understanding,” Benjamin says, sidestepping to allow me to exit first while Dimitri keeps him away. The group at the other end of the bar, as well as the rest of the dinner guests, have their eyes on us. Mortified at the attention, I keep my head down and move.
“And we’d prefer if you rich snobs gave a shit about working stiffs, but you don’t, do you?”
“Connor, man, you’re pissed! Leave it alone!”
My hand is grabbed roughly, stopping me in my tracks. I look at the man, who begins to rage about the ring on my finger, and Dimitri has slammed his forearm into the man, Connor, with enough force that his fingers slacken and release me. Just as Dimitri reaches to drag the man away, Benjamin’s unharmed arm swings—and lands, his fist connecting with the man’s jaw.
I flinch, gaping at Benjamin’s outburst. Even Dimitri’s eyes widen.
Multiple people stand now, some nervously, others intending to break up whatever fight is about to start. The man, who is stumbling, dizzy from the blow, goes bright red.
I’d be worried for Benjamin if he weren’t the same shade.
“You’re going to fucking regret that, mate!”
“You picked the wrong day to test me, man,” Benjamin snarls, stepping up to him.
