Page 162 of New Growth
I paused. My stomach flipped, and I nearly swallowed the damn needle between my lips.
Elliot’s here?
I forced a neutral expression. “Tell him I’m busy.”
Johanna nodded and returned to the reception area.
I figured he’d address me about my little outburst, but here? At my place of business? He wasn’tthatcrazy.
Jo appeared in the doorway again. “He said if you don’t come out here, he’ll come to you.”
My eyes widened.
A few amused gasps rang out before Esther chimed in from her nail desk. “Ouuu, you in troubleeee.”
Laughter rippled through the salon.
“Shut up, Es,” I muttered, rolling my eyes.
My client raised an eyebrow. “You need a break to handle that?”
“No, no.” I picked up my needle again. “He ain’t stupid. He knows I’m working.”
London snorted. “Girl, you know Elliot doesn’t care about nothing else when it comes to you.”
“Exactly,” Esther agreed.
I ignored them both, turning back to Johanna. “Jo. Tell him I’m busy. I’ll talk to him later.”
Before she could even move, Elliot rounded the corner and stalked toward me.
“Ouuu,” Esther sang again, stirring up a few more giggles from the clients and the girls servicing them.
The salon fell silent as he reached me, and all eyes were on us. He made it his business to invade my space, using his broad, muscular frame to cage me in, making sure I had nowhere to go as he looked down at me. His scent wrapped around me. I’d missed it all day, but now was not the time to think about it.
“We need to talk. Now,” he commanded. He used every bit of dominance in his tone, making it clear this was not up for discussion.
Still, I folded my arms defiantly. “I’m working, Elliot. You can’t just—”
He cut me off, leaning over my client’s chair with that effortless charm.
“I’m sorry, honey. I need to talk to her for a minute. Do you mind? I’ll pay for your hair.”
My client barely hesitated. “Baby, if you pay for this $250 install, you can do whatever you like.”
I shot her a look, and she just grinned.
Elliot smirked, but when he turned back to me, his expression darkened. He nodded toward the staff room door. “Let’s go.”
I stood firm in my stance, not moving an inch. In response, he got closer, swallowing up what little air had separated us as he leaned down, his breath warm against my ear. “You want me to make a scene?”
I stiffed at his words. He would do it, too.
Without much argument, I put the needle down. “I’ll be right back.”
My client waved me off. “Take your time.”
Snickers and whispers followed us as Elliot followed me toward the staff room. But he didn’t stop there—he pulled me into the supply closet, shutting the door behind us for extra privacy. Elliot’s jaw was tight, his eyes locked onto mine with frustration as he exhaled sharply.
