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His blow knocks me off my feet.
I crash into a table with a grunt, the edge hitting like a punch to the gut before I bounce off it. Someone gasps. Not me. I don’t have any breath left in me to do more than wheeze.
Sugar, or is it salt? Whatever it is goes flying as ketchup from someone’s plate of fries smears all over the front of my dress.
I collapse to the floor, hugging my belly as a dull throbbing heat blooms on the right side of my face.
Geoff is talking, trying to get Dad to leave, but it's as if his voice is coming from a million miles away. I feel numb as I lay on the cold floor staring at the speckled, white plasticky linoleum that I mop every night, fighting to hold back my tears.
Get up, Saige. You just have to hold it together for a little while longer.
What birthday would be complete without a smack in the face in front of a diner full of people?
Feel sorry for yourself later. Get up.Now.
I'm pushing myself to my feet when the front door swings open and a pair of pristine black leather shoes enter the very edge of my vision. "I'm looking for—"
The rich, male voice, full of easy confidence I don’t hear often, especially in this shitty part of the city, stops so suddenly that it distracts me from my humiliation.
I lift my head.
My eyes clash with the dark-haired man in an expensive suit at the door. I look at him and I’m amazed he even sees plain, Saige Leo with the drunk for a dad, long dark hair that doesn’t know whether it’s curly or straight, and blue eyes that are just as confused about whether they’re blue or gray.
But he sees me. This man with perfectly styled wavy brown-black hair, and crystal-clear blue eyes that shine like the facet of a gem. Flawless. A catlike smile of satisfaction stretches across his lips, straight white teeth even brighter set against olive-gold skin.
For a second, his eyes shift from blue to silvery gray, and it feels like an animal is staring back at me, but then he blinks and his eyes are that clear blue again.
Must’ve just been seeing things.
As he stalks toward me, I forget to breathe.
I’m conscious Dad is screaming about needing cash, but only distantly, as if it’s happening in another room and not right behind me. But it doesn’t seem important. Not with this perfect man striding closer, as if the only thing he sees is me.
Or it isn’t important until Dad’s hand grips the back of my neck. Probably getting ready to hit me again. I brace myself for it, scrunching into myself. But the blow never lands.
"Take your hand off her.Now." The well-dressed stranger's voice is a whip so cold and hard that I flinch.
He might be wearing a smart navy suit—tailored judging by how well it fits him—but with his powerful shoulders and the fierce burn in his eyes, only an idiot would think of taking him on. I’d put him at twenty-five, so at the peak of his physical fitness.
Dad rips his hand away faster than I believed he could move.
Less than a foot away from me, the stranger halts, stretching a large hand out toward me. Silver glints at his wrist, drawing my gaze for a second. The name stamped on the watch face screams that this guy has money to burn.Seriousmoney. Who else could afford a Rolex?
"You belong with me," he says when I don’t move to take his hand. "Don't you feel it?"
I don't understand what he's talking about, so I shake my head no.
"Mate," he murmurs, dropping into a crouch in front of me, his voice low. He seems happy to ignore the silent diners and the fact I have ketchup smeared all over the front of my dress and my chin. "My heart."
Is this a dream, or a fairytale come to life?
"But I don't know you," I tell him, when my pain subsides enough that I can speak, wishing it were true with every bone in my body.
His next smile is so radiant that my heart aches with it. "You will." His gaze darts over my shoulder to where Dad must be and his expression hardens. “You’ll never suffer like that again. I swear it.”
I cling to the belief that I belong to this beautiful man who says I'm his, desperate to believe he's here to save me.
But he could be anyone.
