Page 231 of The Heart You Kept

“Yeah.” I widen my eyes. “What about it?” Fight me, asshole, I dare you…. I am in the mood to end you tonight.

Amusement flashes across his face. “You need to eat.”

“I’m not angry because I’m hungry, Edward, not even you could be that stupid.”

“Careful,” he warns.

“Who was she?”

He runs his tongue over his teeth, angered by my tone.

“And before you say anything, I want you to think long and hard about how you answer. Because believe me, Edward, when I say this, I can forgive anything as long as I am told the truth. But if you lie to me there is no coming back from that.”

He rolls his eyes.

“Do not dare roll your fucking eyes at me,” I whisper angrily. “Who was she?”

“We will have this conversation later.”

“When?”

“Alora,” he snaps. “Do not give me your fucking attitude. I said we will talk about it later, and we will.” He turns and walks out of my office and out the front door of the store.

I stare after him as my blood boils.

Of course he’s going to be angry with me, well, if that’s the best defense he’s got then I’ve already won.

I loiter in my office for a while as I try to calm down, that didn’t go to plan. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Edward Prescott, it’s that if I want my way it’s all in the delivery of what I say. If I demand it, it’s a straight-up hard no. If I’m sweet and vulnerable, he’ll give me whatever I want.

I swear to god he’s got oppositional defiance…hmm, maybe I should get him tested for that? It would sure make my life easier if this could be fixed with a pill.

I pack up my things and Jonty and I walk out together. “Thanks for today,” I tell him.

“Have a great night,” he says as I lock the door.

“You too.” I force a smile and turn to see Edward talking to the guards by the car, his hands are in his pockets and he’s listening to Stefan as he talks intently, are they filling him in on today’s activities?

Oh, to be a fly on the fucking wall….

He sees me and smiles. “There she is.” He walks over and kisses my cheek. “Let’s go and have some dinner.”

“Okay.” I clench my lips together to stop myself from saying something snarky. He takes my hand in his and we walk down the street toward the restaurant strip. “Italian?” he asks.

“Whatever.”

He raises his eyebrow again, unimpressed with my tone.

“I swear to god. Don’t push your luck tonight, Edward, you are on thin ice.”

He rolls his eyes and drags me into a restaurant. “Bonjour, est-ce que vous auriez une table pour deux ?” he says. (Translation: Hello, do you have a table for two, please?)

“Oui, par ici s’il vous plaît.” (Translation: Yes, this way please.)

We are seated at a small table toward the back. “Puis-je vous apporter quelque chose à boire ?” she asks. (Translation: Can I get you something to drink?)

“Une bouteille de votre meilleur rouge, s’il vous plaît.” he replies. (Translation: A bottle of your best red, please.)

She leaves us alone and he takes my hand over the table and lifts it and kisses my fingertips while I stare at him deadpan.