“Lia, come on, don’t go. Sit down and we’ll talk about it.”
“I don’t want to talk about anything. Please let go of my hand.” I’m starting to feel emotional. I was so stupid—this was a huge mistake.
“Babe, sweetheart, don’t go…”
I blink away tears. I don’t want him to talk me into staying. He’s like my Kryptonite—I can’t resist him, and he knows it. But I don’t want to get back with him. I made the break, and even though it was hard, I’m so glad I did it. I shouldn’t have come. I’ve been such a fool. “Dom…”
“Baby, just give me another five minutes…”
I try to step around him so I can head for the exit, but he moves to block me. Frustration flares inside me. He always makes my decisions for me. “I want to leave,” I say clearly.
“You really don’t,” he says, “not yet. We haven’t finished talking.”
“I think the lady’s had enough.” It’s Luke, who’s appeared at my side.
Dom doesn’t even look at him as he says, “Fuck off. Nobody whistled for you.” He’s still holding my hand, and he squeezes it now and says, “Come on, love, sit back down.”
“I’m not your love. Let go of my hand.” My bottom lip trembles despite my fury.
Dom puts his other hand on top of mine and says, “Sweetheart…”
But that’s all he gets to say, because Luke grabs him by the lapels and propels him backward, forcing him to let go of myhand. Chairs scrape and one falls over as Luke uses his superior height and weight to throw Dom against the window, then pins him there with an arm across his throat.
“She’s not your sweetheart,” Luke says, his voice a growl. “Not anymore. Stay the fuck away from her.”
I stand there, a hand over my mouth, shocked at the speed at which he’d moved. Around us, a couple of waiters also stand and stare. Other patrons gasp in shock, and a guy who I think might be the manager walks hastily across the restaurant toward us.
“It’s okay,” I say as he nears. “We’re going. I’m sorry for the disturbance.”
“He’s paying for lunch,” Luke says to the manager, gesturing back at Dom as he walks away. Dom doesn’t protest, and the manager nods.
Luke rests a hand in the middle of my back. “Come on, ma’am.”
I let him guide me out of the restaurant. My heart is racing, and my mouth has gone dry. He takes me across the street to the car park, his hand gently steering me past the cars, opens the passenger door of the Range Rover, and gestures for me to get in. Then he closes the door and walks around to the driver’s side.
I buckle myself in, which isn’t easy because my hand is shaking so much. I sit there, trembling, as Luke gets in and closes the door.
He turns in his seat and looks at me. “Are you okay?”
I press my fingers to my mouth, then burst into tears.
“Hey…” He sighs, fishes the square of material out of his pocket, and passes it to me. “Come on, don’t cry over that arsehole.”
“I’m sorry.” My voice is a squeak.
“And don’t apologize.”
“I’m not really upset, I’m angry.”
“I know.”
I try to mop my tears without smudging my makeup. “I shouldn’t have gone.”
He doesn’t say anything. I know he didn’t want me to go.
“I feel like such a fool,” I whisper.
“You’re not a fool. You’re just a woman in love.” His lips twist.
