There are four thousand concerning things about that question.
“What gave you the impression that I was even remotely interested inprocreatingwith you?”
His eyes darken.
I think I might be in trouble.
“Oh, so you think you’re better than me?” he asks quietly, and now I wish he’d look away. Please, go back to looking through me rather than at me. “Didn’t you just sit here and tell me that you’rein between jobs?You’re unemployed. I’m a successful insurance broker. You thinkyou’rethe catch here?”
I swallow, staring at the tightness in his neck, the strain in his smile. He is terrifying. Misogynistic, narcissistic, and absolutelyterrifying.
“That’s quite rude, don’t you think?” I ask, and tap my phone at the same time.
I text Arden, because I don’t want my brother to get into trouble, and I know that’s exactly what will happen if he comes down here and has to deal with Paul for longer than two seconds.
Me
Please swing by the restaurant and fake an emergency. This guy is freaking me out.
“If honesty is rude now, this world has gone too soft.” Paul scoffs, shaking his head. He slams back his drink and waves—wavesthe waiter over for another.That’swhat’s rude!
“I am full of botox and I have a bit of lip filler,” I admit bluntly, now fuming. I smile, making sure it looks as phony as it is. “Sorry to disappoint.”
He scoffs again. “Are there any real women left in this world? It’s getting pathetic.”
“What’s pathetic,” I sneer, leaning forward. “Is judging women for doing what works for them. You judge women who don’t live up to society’s standards of what beauty should look like, which is ever-changing by the way, and then you judge them for doing what they can to meet those standards to feel better about themselves. What is the answer to this unsolvable riddle, Paul?”
He stares at me, eyes now full of hatred. Funny, he couldn’t meet my eyes when he thought he might like me. I shouldn't have swiped when he said so little about himself. Insurance brokers are not on my list.
“You should have been born a man,” he answers with a shrug, a smug smile on his face.
“Aria—excuse me,what?”
I glance up, and so does Paul.
Eleanor Lemon stands beside our table in a black, sleek skirt and deep purple, silk blouse. She looks as powerful and witchy as ever. Behind her—get this—is Boston fucking Black.
Great.
Boston’s brow furrows. His eyes search my face and then looks down at my date.
Paul looks back at Boston, too. His shoulders tighten at the sight of him. Oh, he knows exactly who he is.
He probably should have asked for my last name.
“What did you just say to her?” Lemmy asks calmly, turning to face my date. She’s intimidating with her black, curly hair and piercing gray eyes. Tall, thin, with fillerless lips and a sharp, runway-model bone structure. Natural. A successful lawyer.Thisis who Paul wanted me to be.
“I—”
“He was telling me that he will not have babies with me now that he’s discovered I have botox and lip filler,” I explain on his behalf, because we all know he was about to fabricate the conversation. Not on my watch.
Boston’s brow furrows deeper. He looks absolutely horrified.
Lemmy cocks a perfectly arched brow. She blinks. “Do you…want to have babies with him?”
“I’d rather use my vagina to store pocket change.”
Boston barks out a shocked, strangled sound that turns into a deep, rumbling cough.
