AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The woman laughs. “Sorry. That sounds incredibly rude. Tate’s latestgirlfriend. Hookup. Whatever you want to call yourself.” She hesitates. “You are Scarlett, correct?”
I turn on the water and wash my hands, hating how they’re shaking. She watches me quietly while I try to play it cool, doing everything as quickly as possible so I can get out of here, but once I shut the water off, I realize she’s standing directly in front of the paper towel dispenser.
“Excuse me,” I say, my voice trembling. It’s taking everything inside of me to try to keep it together. I don’t want her thinking that what she’s doing is bothering me, but I’m completely unsettled by her presence.
God, if I can’t handle a little confrontation in a restaurant bathroom, how am I going to be able to maintain this facade for the next six weeks?
She doesn’t so much as budge away from the towel dispenser. “Agree to let me interview you and Tate on camera, and I’ll move out of the way for you.”
Sighing, I dodge around her, shaking my still-dripping-wet hands as I flee the bathroom. The woman is on me in an instant, crowding me from behind, her hand grasping for my wrist. I yank my arm away from her, whirling on her.
“Don’ttouchme.”
The woman laughs in my face. “Stupid girl. Where’s your security detail? Where’s your boyfriend? Why isn’t he running to your defense?”
“What is wrong with you?” I ask, watching as her face morphs and changes into an angry, almost ugly mask.
“Must be nice, being a rich-as-fuck Lancaster and never having to worry about money your whole life. Some of us have to work for a living,” she practically spits in my face.
“Hey.”
We both turn to see Tate standing a few feet away in the hall that leads to the restrooms, his deep voice sharp and demanding. “Get the fuck away from her.”
The woman immediately pulls out her phone and starts filming us both. “Tate, tell us about your new little flavor of the month. Or is it week? Chasing after heiresses now, huh? At least you’re moving up in the world instead of messing around with broke groupies.”
“Scarlett. Come here,” Tate commands.
I rush toward him, grateful when he wraps his arm around my shoulders and presses me close to his side, guiding me through the restaurant as he curses under his breath. The woman follows us the entire way, filming our escape, barraging us with endless questions and comments.
“She’s cute, Tate, but can she handle your style of violence? Don’t forget, honey, he lashes out and destroys everything in his path when he has too much to drink. He’s been arrested before too, though his team covered that all up.”
What?
I had no idea Tate had beenarrested.
“Ignore her,” Tate murmurs close to my ear. “We’re almost out of here.”
A man in a three-piece suit appears out of nowhere, approaching us, concern mixed with irritation written all over his handsome face.
“Please, follow me, Mr. Ramsey,” the man says, his voice deep and calm as he guides us toward a swinging door that leads into the kitchen. The woman is stopped by a beefy-looking guy who comes from the front of the restaurant, blocking her path.
“Come on, lady,” I hear him say as we keep walking. “Time for you to go.”
Once we’re in the kitchen, we finally stop, and I pull out of Tate’s embrace, needing the distance. I rest a hand on my chest, breathing deep and trying to calm my racing heart as the man in the suit apologizes profusely.
“We are so sorry. That sort of thing usually doesn’t happen here,” the man explains. I assume he’s the manager or owner of this restaurant, and he’s visibly sweating. “We pride ourselves on running a restaurant where celebrities can be out in the open with the public, yet never harassed. I don’t know where she came from, but I assure you she will be banned from the premises, effective immediately.”
“Thank you. We appreciate it,” Tate says, grabbing hold of me once more and hauling me closer. I stay locked by his side, my gaze still going to the door, afraid that horrible woman might burst in at any moment.
“I’ve never seen anything like that. She was horribly persistent.” The man offers me an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry, Miss Lancaster.”
I’m shocked he knows who I am, but I need to get used to that. Lots of people know who I am now thanks to all the media attention from being with Tate.
“Guess I bring out the worst in people,” Tate jokes, but I can see the hurt in his gaze. It’s there, buried deep, and I wish I knew who this woman was.
And who sent her into the bathroom to basically attack me.
“We can find you another table, Mr. Ramsey, if you and Miss Lancaster wish to stay and finish your dinner,” the man continues. “And this meal is on us. Again, my apologies.”
