Page 63 of Jealous Stepbrother
I catch her wrist before she can bolt. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“You can’t just?—”
But I haul her up against me. She’s fuming, shaking, and it only makes me harder. “We’re going to have a little chat, you and I.”
The waiter hovers, shell-shocked. I stop just long enough to look Scarlett dead in the eye. “What did you order?”
“What?”
“Repeat it.”
She stares at me like I’ve grown horns but mutters, “The crab cakes and a salad.”
I slap a hundred into the waiter’s hand. “Expedite it. Box it up. We’ll grab it on the way.”
Scarlett gawks at me. “Are you serious?”
“Since you love their food so much, I didn’t want you to miss out.”
“You didn’t want me to miss out but you still ruined the experience for me?”
I smirk. “Details, baby.”
I drag her past the gawkers, down two short corridors and into the ladies’ toilet. A lone woman stands at the sink. I glare until she scuttles out, then throw the bolt.
The second we’re alone, Scarlett’s chest rises and falls like she’s about to explode.
“Have you forgotten so soon, baby girl?” I growl, advancing until her back hits the tiled wall. “I own your experiences. Have owned them since you crawled into my bed. You try giving away what belongs to me to snot-nosed trust fund pricks with pencil dicks, and I’ll put them in the ground, you hear me?”
Her eyes glisten. “What happened to you? Why are you like this?”
I laugh, rough and dark. “You’re still not listening, sweetheart. You. Scarlett. You happened to me. I’ve craved you and hungered for you for four fucking years. It’s driven me insane every single minute I’ve had to live without you. And now you think you can fuck off to brunch with people I haven’t approved whenever you feel like it?”
She gapes at me.
My chuckle turns sharp, unhinged. “And you’re hilarious. Standing there, more breathtaking than a fucking angel, wide eyes watching me like you can’t decide whether to run or jump me.”
Her lips part, but nothing comes out. “I should run. You’ve lost your mind,” she mutters.
“I highly advise against it, baby. Let’s go.”
“W-where?”
“Somewhere you can apologize appropriately.”
CHAPTER 17
BERSERKER, BERSERKER
Asher
We leave The Tides Club to a storm of whispers.
Scarlett’s silent, arms crossed, fury rolling off her. I don’t care.
She’s with me. That’s what matters.
I drive us a few streets over, down a quiet lane toward the marina where the old brick abandoned warehouses meet the sea.
