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Fear slides down my neck. He knows her name? I can’t believe he’s using her in this clearly hostile attempt at a takeover. “The answer is no,” I bite out.
But he doesn’t seem to care what I say. He steps closer, crowding me toward a wall. “You won’t have to worry about whether a provocative video will bring people here to…well…to see if you’ll put on a show for them.”
“I’m not going to apologize for making a fun video,” I say, trying to stay tough as panic rises in my blood, in my brain.
“Fun video?” he asks with a scoff. “More like strategic. Talk about using your best assets,” he says, his awful eyes lingering on my mouth, then my chest. My skin crawls.
“You don’t see me making videos like that. You don’t see the men who own shops making videos like that. You want to be treated like a businesswoman, then you go make a salacious video like that?”
I’m shaking all over. Wishing I knew martial arts. Reaching for my mace, but I don’t have it right now because why would I have it right now? “Leave,” I hiss.
“You need someone like me because you can’t run a business to save your life. But you sure know how to steal the spotlight.”
A million responses start to form in my head but I don’t know how to get them to my mouth. I’m stuck in a nightmare, trying to shout and scream but no sound is coming out. I can barely even hear anything but the rushing of blood in my head.
Then, there’s the sound of boots.
A growl.
And I feel an arm wrap around my shoulders. Strong, possessive, and, most of all, wanted.
“Don’t talk to my wife like that.”
I’m frozen. I can barely even process that my fake fiancé just upgraded me on the fly to protect me.
For a few seconds, Sebastian sputters out a what, clearly knocked off his game. But then, Sebastian’s eyes narrow at Gage and he lashes out once more, the little boy wanting the truck at all costs. “She’s not even your wife.”
Gage isn’t one to debate dates, titles, or legalities with this asshole. “All you have to worry about is that she’s mine.”
Sebastian arches a doubtful brow. “Is she though? She never even mentioned you when I asked her out. That engagement ring she wears? That’s not the ring she had in her social feed a few weeks ago.”
A chill seeps into my bones. Sebastian’s right. Of course he’s right. I hate that he’s right. I hate, too, that he’s so obsessed with me he’s studied my social feed for details.
Gage doesn’t dwell on that though. He keeps me close and says, low and calm, “You think when I gave her my grandmother’s ring has anything to do with what you saw in pictures on the fucking Internet? Get out. Now.”
Sebastian isn’t moving though. He wags a finger at me. “This engagement is a PR stunt. The two of you are trying to look like the cute, fun couple. Trying to impress somebody. And I can guess who that might be.” His eyes are gray pools of jealousy as he looks my way. “I made you a good offer. Your store should be mine.” Then, he turns his focus back to Gage. “And I don’t believe you’re getting married. As I said, she never even mentioned you when I asked her out two months ago. I bet you don’t even know her.”
Gage breathes fire, moving me behind him as he advances toward the man. Sebastian backs into the corner of the hallway as Gage stares him down. “You think I don’t know the woman I’m marrying? Think again. I know her favorite food is a chicken sandwich with sriracha. Her favorite artist is Roy Lichtenstein. Her favorite sport is football. I know, too, her favorite color isn’t red. It’s yellow because she wore a yellow dress the day I asked her to marry me, and I know she made me so damn happy when she said yes. She buys Mia and Lola makeup, and looks spectacular putting it on, and looks even more beautiful without it. I know she listens to her friend’s podcast, and shops at her other friend’s jewelry store, and can make friends with anyone. I know she’s fearless and brave. I know she’s the best listener and has the biggest heart. I know exactly why she loves to make chocolate, and it’s about so much more than money, and you will never know these things about her. I know, too, that she loves cherry scents and soap that smells like fruit, not chocolate bath bombs.” Gage takes a deep, fueling breath, then cocks his head and says, “And I know the sounds she makes when she calls out my name.” His voice is filled with the fury of a thousand suns and the protection of an unbeatable army. “Now get the fuck out of her business, and if I ever see you here again, I won’t be so nice.”
My stomach flips. In the midst of all this heat and rage, all these arrows thrown, it actually flips from the way Gage speaks—so possessively, so passionately.
Sebastian lifts his chin, then holds up a hand as if to say you’ve made your point. He wedges past us toward the store, but turns back once again.
“You can give speeches all you want. But I know this is a game.” He points to Gage, then me. “And I’m not going away easily. First, I’ll tell your happy little landlord that you’re faking it, and then I’ll let the world know.” His gaze slithers to me then. Only me. “And see if you can be everyone’s chocolate darling when you’re just a liar.”
For the next five hours, Sebastian’s parting words echo in my head.
You’re just a liar.
It’s savory night at Special Edition. We spend the whole evening serving chocolate squares with potato chips, chocolate truffles with everything bagel seasoning, and chocolate truffles with—of all things—olives.
As Gage makes dirty gin martinis, and everything bagel seasoned ones too, I spend savory night watching, waiting, fearing.
Every time the door opens, I tense.
Check for Sebastian.
Wait for him to blow our cover.
