Page 14 of Flashback for the Forward

He let out a scoff. “I’m making a scene? Remind me, who was it that let another man touch what is mine?”

When he got like this—jealous, possessive, aggressive—there was no point in trying to argue my innocence. It would only anger him more. My only option was to admit that I was guilty of whatever he accused me of.

I released a sigh. “It was me.”

After yanking me into an alcove hidden behind a large plant, he finally let me go. I rubbed at the abused flesh of my wrist. It wouldn’t be long before the red marks Aiden left behind turned purple.

He scanned me from head to toe, his face contorting into a look of disdain. “Can’t even blame the guy for getting handsy when you show up at this classy establishment looking like a goddamn streetwalker.”

The insult acted like a physical blow, and I reared back. “What?”

Wearing a short-sleeved maxi dress, I more closely resembled a Sunday school teacher than a prostitute.

A sound of disgust was pulled from the back of his throat. “Your tits are spilling out of the top, and the garment is so form-fitting, it leaves very little to the imagination.”

My cheeks heated, and shame flooded my system. “This is the biggest dress I own. I need a larger size.”

“No, what you need to do is go on a fucking diet.”

Vision growing blurry, I dipped my chin. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Humorless laughter fell from Aiden’s lips. “Always with the damn waterworks. When are you going to learn your tears have no effect on me?”

If my current situation weren’t so hopeless, I might’ve laughed at the irony of him painting me as a manipulator. A few years ago, I would have retorted that it took one to know one. But now, my options were limited. Unless I wanted to be homeless and hungry, I had to kowtow to the man who controlled every facet of my life.

“Pull yourself together,” he hissed. “You’ve already made us late with your constant need for attention; the last thing I need is for my boss to bear witness to your dramatics.”

Reaching into my clutch, I pulled out my compact, flipping it open to view my reflection in the tiny mirror.

I looked like a fucking mess. My eyes were red and puffy. Mascara streaked down my cheeks.

Thankfully, I had a travel pack of tissues on hand and was able to wipe away the black smudges lining my skin. But there wasn’t much I could do to make it appear as though I hadn’t been crying.

I lifted my face for inspection. “Better?”

Aiden grunted. “It’ll have to do. If Phillips asks, we can say you suffer from allergies.”

He guided me from behind the alcove with a hand pressed to the small of my back. Tucked tightly to his side, I had a front-row seat to watch as he transformed from the sadistic monster who had become the villain in my story to a charming gentleman when we reached the hostess stand set at the front of the club’s in-house restaurant.

Flashing her his pearly whites—fucker was vain as hell and had veneers—Aiden purred, “Good morning. We’re guests of Nicholas Phillips.”

The woman took a moment to do a slow perusal of him before her gaze flicked to me, and she frowned. She was probably wondering why someone as attractive and put-together as Aiden would be with a frumpy girl in ill-fitting clothes.

Girl, trust me when I say that you want no part of this man.

“Of course.” She batted her eyelashes at him. “If you will follow me.”

We trailed behind the hostess, weaving through the restaurant. Aiden’s steps faltered when his boss’s table came into view. The way he’d been talking about this brunch, he expected it was merely a formality before being offered the promotion he coveted. With the nearly full eight-top before us, it now became clear that he had competition for the job.

“Wheeler!” Captain Phillips called out, lifting a hand at our approach. “You finally made it.”

I swear I could hear Aiden’s jaw pop with how tightly it was clenched, but he hid his irritation well when greeting his boss with a handshake. “My apologies, sir. There was a line at the valet stand.”

The man could probably pass a polygraph while lying through his teeth; that’s how good he was at it.

“Ah.” The head of the police department inclined his chin in understanding. “Sunday brunch tends to draw a crowd.”

Eyes scanning those seated around the table, Aiden remarked, “Yes, I can see that.”