Page 60 of Soft Tissue Damage
Cullan’s glower darkens, and he looks as though he’s at war with himself. “There are a lot of men out on a Saturday night on Flockton Street. They’ll take one look at you in that dress…” His eyes cut away from me. “Just be careful. Call me if you needanything.”
I bite my lip nervously. “I really do try not to get into trouble, Mr. Grant.”
He forces a smile. “I know you do. I hope you have a good time, and don’t lose sight of your friends. Look after each other.”
Rosie is playing with alphabet blocks, and he picks her up and carries her through the kitchen toward the garage.
I murmur good night to him, but I’m feeling wildly unsettled. Cullan couldn’t have made it more obvious that he doesn’t want me to go out on Flockton Street. I’m not exactly streetwise, and he knows it.
Still, I trust Justine, and if Flockton Street turns out tobe sleazy, I’ll just come home. Thanks to Cullan, I’ll be able to order a car wherever I am that will bring me back here to safety.
That thought settles my nerves, and I examine the bag he gave me. The name on the side in fancy calligraphy is a French one. The name sounds vaguely familiar. Inside is a shoe box. Cullan bought me shoes? I frown, wondering how shoes can be more intimate than jewelry.
I open the box and see, nestled in tissue paper, a pair of glossy black stiletto pumps with vibrant red soles.
I lift one out and turn it over in my hands, and I breathe a sigh of wonder. The black leather is shiny and sleek. The red sole is provocative. The stiletto is long and elegant. The shoes are daring. They’re sexy.
I don’t think I’ve ever held anything so beautiful in my life.
15
Cullan
“Cullan, will you get off your goddamn phone?” Tyrant throws his linen napkin on the table and glowers at me.
We’ve finished eating the beautiful meal that Vivienne prepared, but it all tasted like ashes. I haven’t been able to concentrate on the taste or the company. All I’ve been able to think about is Elena. She’s out on a Saturday night wearing that jaw-dropping black dress. Every man on Flockton Street will be drooling over her, and she won’t know how to defend herself against all the attention because she doesn’t know she’s beautiful.
“I have to check where Elena is.” I glower at the blue dot on my screen. She hasn’t moved from a bar called Pixiein over an hour. I was on edge when she was barhopping, but I’m tenfold more tense now that she’s staying in one place. Why is she still at Pixie?
What’s so fucking fascinating at Pixie that she’s not moving on?
Is it a man? Is he touching her?
“Is the dot going to tell you if Elena is making out with someone?” Tyrant asks.
I lift my head and glare at him. “Shut the fuck up.”
Vivienne touches the black sleeve of her husband’s suit jacket. “Tyrant, don’t. You wouldn’t like it if I were on Flockton Street.”
By the sounds of it, Vivienne was always bookish and never a party girl, so Tyrant doesn’t know the unique torture of watching your woman head out on the town looking devastatingly sexy in a dress that signalsI am available.
“Angel, you can go out on Flockton Street all you want.”
She smiles flirtatiously at him. “Well, maybe I will.”
“As long as you’re with me.” Tyrant turns to me. “You knew that Elena being out on her own was going to bother you. Why did you let her go?”
I shove my phone into my pocket and sit back. Still fuming, I cast my gaze around the wood-paneled dining room. There are silver candlesticks on the table. Oil paintings on the walls. Dark beams on the high ceilings. “I’m pretending I’ve backed off. Elena told me she’s afraid she’ll lose her job if anything happens between us, so I’mmaking her feel secure until she realizes that I’m not going anywhere, and neither is she.”
Tyrant nods in understanding. “Tonight’s frustrating for you, but look at the big picture. Elena is living in your home already, you lucky bastard.” His eyes narrow as he looks at his wife. “What I wouldn’t have given to lock Vivienne up in this house from the first night I met her, before she could steal Barlow back from me.”
Vivienne looks down her small, pert nose at him, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Instead, you pretended I was free to do as I pleased while you were tracking my every movement.”
He grins at her, darkness glimmering in his eyes. “Of course I was.”
I take out my phone and check Elena’s location again, but she hasn’t moved in the last forty seconds. “I have no cameras where Elena is. I can’t see what she’s doing,” I growl in frustration.
Mercer and Vivienne exchange looks. I know what they’re thinking.
