Page 55 of The Stalker Snafu

I offered a saccharine smile, holding out my tray and still talking into the phone. “Can I interest you in a snail, sir?”

Noah didn’t spare the tray a glance as his eyes held mine hostage. I fought to keep my smile, unsure if I was challenging him or just trying to maintain my sanity—but he wasn’t rising to the bait. He took a step closer, lowering his voice. “You need to go.”

I opened my mouth, ready to argue, but his words stopped me short.

That was… not what I’d expected him to say.

Profuse words of apology for being a lying ass? Sure.

Dropping to his knees and begging for forgiveness? Didn’t seem like too much to ask.

Explaining that he suffers from schizophrenia and was having an episode? Now that was something I could relate to.

But telling me to leave…? All bets were off.

“You want me to go?” I asked carefully, voice surprisingly even for the torrents of rage blistering beneath my skin. My grip on the tray turned white-knuckled as I leaned toward him. His chest was mere inches from my chin. “I just caught you lying your face off to me, plus I’m in the middle of my job, and the first thing you tell me is to leave?”

Tension rippled along his jawline, and I wanted to knock him over the head with my tray of snails. What did he possibly have to be annoyed about? “Emma, please trust me. Go. Now. Don’t cause a scene.”

A scene? I scoffed. Did he just assume I’d call him out in front of all these people? God knows I wanted to.

A throat cleared behind Noah, and he pulled himself back from me. “Everything good over here, Kincaid?”

I looked away from my lying boyfriend to see the same older man from earlier standing to the side. A hedge sculpture in the background outlined his head in a halo, and a thin-lipped Julian stood behind him. He avoided my gaze.

Noah’s expression cleared, and he turned to the newcomer with a raised brow. “Everything’s fine. Just went to get a refill.”

The man hummed, tapping a finger against his glass. It held amber liquid, likely scotch. Six gold rings studded his fingers, and the scar along his jaw was even more intimidating up close.

Was this one of Noah’s secret friends? That was more of an age difference than I’d expected.

“Santiago, why don’t we go check out the bar?” Julian asked the other man, tacking on a grin. His eyes were wide when they fleetingly met mine, and a flutter of unease hit my stomach. “I could use a refill, too.”

“I’m good here,” Santiago answered, eyes traveling the length of me. His gaze felt like a physical caress before turning dismissive, and I was just happy our dress code covered everything. “Who’s this?”

I looked at Noah to see if he was too embarrassed to introduce me as his girlfriend to his fancy friend, and he didn’t even flinch.

“She’s a server,” he answered smoothly, avoiding my gaze. My blood boiled. “On the catering crew⁠—”

“And I’m also Noah’s girlfriend,” I cut in, forcing a smile. I stuffed my phone into my waistband, balancing the snail tray precariously in my left hand, and offered my right hand to the man. “Emma Fox. Nice to meet you.”

“Santiago Florez.” He grasped my hand in his warm, weathered one. A slow smile formed, reminiscent of a crocodile, stretching his scar. A gold tooth peeked out, and I could swear it winked at me. Cool. “Nice to meet you as well, Miss Fox. But I don’t recall our dear Kincaid mentioning a girlfriend.”

My smile thinned as I pulled my hand back and grabbed the tray with both hands again. Of course he hadn’t, yet he had the audacity to get mad about me telling my mother he was a friend.

“We go to Westcroft together,” I explained, planning to spill all the sordid details just to embarrass Noah—but I paused when I caught him shake his head so slightly, I almost missed it.

Now the liar was trying to silence me?

“Westcroft. Good school.” Santiago clapped a hand on Noah’s shoulder. “And you chose a good one in this guy. Sharp as a tack, and fierce as all hell.”

I frowned, further thrown when Noah stayed quiet. “I don’t know. Seems a bit shady to me.”

A muscle jumped in Noah’s jaw, and Julian snuck around the two men to grab for my tray. “Is that escargot? Oh, delicious⁠—”

“No snails for you!” I snapped, jerking the tray back and slapping at his hand. Nearby guests gave us a wider berth, and I gritted my teeth. Noah was a liar, and Julian was Noah’s friend, so he deserved to suffer by proxy. Snails were my only power at the moment. I cut a look at Noah. “You owe me an explanation.”

He shook his head, closing both eyes. “Not now.”