Page 52 of Betrayed in the Dark
“You feel it, too,” he says. “I know you do.”
Itdoesn’t matter what I feel.
My lips part, a lie sitting on the tip of my tongue.
“Don’t,” he insists, shaking his head. “Don’t say anything.” His hand glides along my skin, gently covering my cheek. “I know you still feel it—that thing between us. I’ve never been able to explain it. But there was always something there, like a magnetic pull I could never see. It’s a force bigger than either of us could ever comprehend, and you’re fighting it with everything you have. I just can’t figure out why.” A sad smile pulls at his lips. “But I’ll be here when you’re ready to stop fighting it. I’ll always be here.”
He drops his hand, a chill coating my skin.
It feels like he just chiseled away a considerable chunk of the stone that surrounds my heart.
And for the first time in a long while, it beats not because it has to but because it wants to.
Which leads to a dangerous thing…Hope.
Because for the first time, I look at him and think that maybe I should tell him. Maybe I should explain everything and hope that he’ll be able to save me. Save himself.Save us.
So, without thinking, I part my lips. “Eli, I—”
“So, what do we think?” Elena enters the room with a bright smile, oblivious to the tension swirling in the air between us.
Her interference at the exact moment I would have confessed is the only sign I need to keep my damn lips closed.
I show a smile and abruptly stand. “Everything was delicious. I think my top choice would be the vanilla cake with the vanilla buttercream.”
She claps her hands together. “Lovely! I’ll have the contract prepared and sent to you later today with all the details.” She extends her hand, and I take it. “Don’t hesitate to reach out at any time.” Her beautiful smile widens. “I’m so excited for your wedding.”
At least that makes one of us.
Chapter twelve
Eli
Something isn’t right.
Madeleine, usually poised with her chin held high and her back straight as a rod, has been a nervous wreck since we left the house.
“Care to explain what has you in a tizzy?” I ask, stretching my arm across the back of our seats.
She stops biting her thumbnail—her biggest giveaway to her anxiety—and instantly adjusts her posture beside me.
“I’m not in a…” She makes air quotes. “‘Tizzy.’”
“Really? Well, you’ve fooled me.” I arch a brow, watching as she rolls her eyes and looks out her window.
“I can handle them,” she says softly, almost too quietly for me to hear.
“Handle who?” I ask, but before she can respond, the car pulls to a stop beside the restaurant.
She quickly scurries out of the car, stepping up the stairs in her six-inch heels toward the front entrance. The black dressshe’s wearing hugs every delicious curve of her body, and unfortunately, I’m not the only one who notices as the doorman holds the door open for her with his gaze lingering on her ass.
Fucking wanker.
Taking two steps at a time until I stand right before the man, I grab his collar and shove him against the glass wall.
“Do you have any idea who you were just eye-fucking?” I demand. He shakes his head vigorously as fear radiates off him in waves. “Madeleine Alarie.” He pales as recognition washes over his face.
“I had no idea! I swear!” he exclaims, his eyes widening in panic. He glances in her direction, and I shake him again.
