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He placed his hand over hers as she went to leave. “Keira, you’re not afraid of me, are you? You know me. You know I’d never hurt you.”
“Not physically, you wouldn’t.”
He winced but nodded. “That was the wrong thing to say.” He let out a bitter laugh. “All I seem to be good at lately is saying the wrong thing.”
He saw a flash of sympathy in her eyes. “I know what that’s like.”
“You always know what to say to make someone feel better.”
“Not anymore,” she whispered, looking over her shoulder
at Julian, who was watching them but hadn’t approached. He glared at where Cole touched Keira though, and Cole slid his hand away.
“Keira,” he started.
“I have to go, I’m working,” she told him, pulling away.
“All right, baby,” he replied. The last thing he wanted to do was push her and have her fear him.
She strode into the kitchen, and he turned to look at Julian, expecting to see the other man glaring at him, or storming his way to tell him off. Instead, he was staring at Cole with a look of such intense sadness and pain that Cole’s stomach rolled over.
Fuck. Is this what I did to them?
He closed his eyes briefly then, to his surprise, he felt someone walk up to him. He glanced up to see Keira looking down at him worriedly. “Renard wants to see you.”
Why did she sound so scared? He stood, looking down at her. “What’s wrong? Who is this Renard? Are you scared of him?”
She shook her head but turned away and walked quickly into the kitchen. He followed after her, aware of Julian watching them.
He strode into the kitchen just as a tall, broad man walked out from what he assumed was a pantry. It was the same man who’d brought him the frozen peas the other day. Cole froze as he saw the large knife in his hand.
“You again. See the eye healed up. Back to your pretty boy looks.”
Keira winced at the chef’s words and Cole stepped up, pushing her gently behind him. “Keira, get out of here. Do we have a problem?”
“You’re damn right we have a problem,” the chef whisper-yelled.
Cole frowned in confusion. Why was he so angry? And why was he whispering like that?
“You returned my beef wellington.”
Cole was aware of the door behind him opening, and he briefly glanced over to see who it was. As he suspected, Julian had walked in. He moved closer to them. “Everything okay? Keira you all right?”
“I’m fine.” She tried to move out from behind Cole, but he swung his arm back.
“Stay there,” he demanded.
She froze, and Julian made a low noise of displeasure. Right now, he didn’t care. He just wanted to keep them safe from the clearly livid man in the kitchen.
“Cole, it’s fine.”
“He has a knife,” Cole said to her incredulously.
The big man looked down at the knife in his hand as though just noticing it was there. He snorted and placed it down on the counter. “That better?”
“Julian, take her out of here,” he ordered. “I want her away from him. Something is wrong with him.”
The other man raised his arms, his eyes flashing. “Of course, there is something the fuck wrong with me. You returned the beef fucking wellington and I want to know fucking why.” He never once raised his voice past that soft whisper.
