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As I wipe down a table to help out my waitress, Rachel, the door chime sounds behind me, alerting me to another customer. Business has been pretty steady today so I’ve been helping out on the floor as much as I can, even though I really need to work through the business expenses to see how bad things are this week.
But every time I think about it, my stomach coils. This is my family’s baby. I’m not ready for reality to smack me in the face, destroying the dreams I have for this place. My parents have called me twice more over the last few days, trying to get me to understand where they’re coming from. The thing is, I do get it. I want this place to flourish just as much as they do, but not with the help of the devil Zayan.
Looking up, my heart instantly starts pounding in my chest. I was hoping I got rid of him for good. Taking up the doorframe with his large, sexy body is the asshole who was in here just a few days ago.
Marnix Taylor.
His fucking name sounds as pretentious as he looks in his fancy, overpriced suit and pristine designer shoes. His blue eyes lock onto mine with a stare that could slice through my body. He walks over to a booth, refusing to break eye contact, challenging me to do something. I told him if he came back in here acting like a jerk, I’d kick his ass out, so I guess we’ll see if I get to live out my dream of doing that today.
My eyes roam over his navy blue suit and pale yellow tie. The man doesn’t have a hair out of place, his beard is a little longer than it was before, but still neatly trimmed, and there’s not even a wrinkle in his pressed suit. Even if he is a rich asshole from the East Side, he’s sexier than I remember. My skin heats and my fingers tingle at how hot he looks.
Rachel’s jaw practically hits the floor as she stares at him with fucking hungry eyes. Pretty sure I can see the drool from here. I shake my head. Totally not worth it, girl—he’s an entitled ass.
So why do I feel a hint of anger that she’s eye fucking him like that?
I give her a pointed look, letting her know I’ll take this one. She pouts, before stomping off to the kitchen. Clearly, she was hoping to get a good tip or maybe a date out of the guy, but there’s no way I’ll let that happen. He’s going to get the same charming personality I offered him last time.
“Two times in one week? Doing a poor job of not looking like a stalker.” Walking over to his booth, I pop my hip to the side, folding my arms over my chest.
“I’ll have water and chicken tikka masala. Thanks for asking.” He looks at me with a hint of disgust. Maybe he’s just upset that I’m in his personal space.
“What are you doing here?” Coming in here once might’ve been a random chance, but after I was such a bitch to him, I would’ve thought he’d be unlikely to come back. Unless he’s into getting his ass handed to him. In which case, I’m all for that.
“Isn’t this a restaurant?” He smirks, acting like it’s obvious.
“Yeah, one I distinctly remember you’re not overly welcome at. You are stalking me, aren’t you?” Call me crazy, but the last time a hot as fuck man in a suit walked in looking like sin and bad decisions, my best friend ended up kidnapped, while I was stalked by his psycho partner. Maybe I’m coming off a little strong, but I’d rather be safe than sorry. Men in fancy suits make my skin crawl, because of the havoc that follows.
“Again, I said I’d have to be interested first to stalk you.” His calculating, ocean blue eyes never waver from mine. “But if I were, do you really think I’d admit to it?”
“So you decided to come back for the fantastic hospitality?” Maybe I do have it wrong and he’s here for the food, but part of me finds that hard to believe.
“No. I came with a proposition. One I think you’d be interested in.”
Exactly what I thought. I knew he wasn’t just here for a tikka masala. He’s not the first guy to come in here requesting some action with me in the back alley, but he's definitely been the most bold about it.
“How would you know anything about what I’m interested in?” I wiggle my eyebrows suggestively.
Ignoring me, he continues. “God, you’re not the quietest woman I’ve ever met.” He motions for me to sit down across from him, but I stay planted where I am.
“Most men are into that. Fuels the ego.” I smirk, but he continues to glare at me. The only hint he found humor in my statement is the slight twitch of his upper lip, which I wouldn’t have noticed if I wasn’t drinking in his handsome features.
“Sit down, Tara.” His husky voice sends a shiver through me. He’s getting more irritated the longer I defy him. Realizing the sooner I get out of here, the quicker he’ll leave, I plop my ass down across from him in the booth.
“What is this elusive proposition you have, Your Highness?” I bat my eyelashes, looking at him sweetly. His jaw clenches and his face reddens slightly. Damn, Your Highness is pissy.
“I know your little restaurant isn’t doing well.” He looks around Star of India, taking in all we have to offer. The way his eyes roam over the ratty decor lining the paint-chipped walls makes me feel a twinge of shame. He’s acting like this place is beneath him—which I guess it probably is compared to his high standards, but it’s a special place filled with love and warmth.
“It’s not for sale,” I grunt, starting to stand, but his large hand latches onto me, holding me in place. I glance down to where his palm engulfs my wrist, and look back up at him, unimpressed. “Let go of me.”
“Let me finish before you go and run off like a scared little girl.” His comment only serves to piss me off more. He’s not the first prick to come in here offering to buy the place, but I refuse to give up my family’s legacy, no matter how good the price.
“I’d have to see something scary to be scared.” I pull my wrist from his grip, and sit back down with my arms crossed over my chest. At least I wore an actual shirt today so he doesn’t have the perfect view of my tits. “Ten minutes. That’s it.”
He huffs out a sigh, before reaching into a messenger bag and pulling out a manila envelope, sliding it toward me.
“What is this?” I’m curious, but I refuse to touch it, acting like it will give me a disease if I do. Just like he did with his money last time.
“A contract. One I think you’d be more than inclined to sign.” He cocks his head at me, keeping me in place with his piercing glare. I’d hate to be his opponent in court, because he shoots fucking daggers into my soul and I haven’t even done anything to him.
