Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 151845 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 759(@200wpm)___ 607(@250wpm)___ 506(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151845 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 759(@200wpm)___ 607(@250wpm)___ 506(@300wpm)
‘Oh,’ David laughs. ‘Should have known you’d side with Elle since you’re fucking her mother.’
The gasps that flood the bar this time are horrified and justified. Mum’s new boyfriend is a burly bloke and an ex-pro boxer – no one messes with him. The years he has on David won’t faze him. ‘Be careful, son,’ he warns, leaning across the bar. ‘Don’t think I won’t throw you out of here.’
David ignores the threat, sighing and rubbing at his head. ‘Elle, I’m sorry. Can you just give me a minute to explain?’
‘What’s to explain? You did what you did and I’m over it.’
He rests his hand on my arm, and I shrug him off, slamming my lips shut for fear of turning the air blue with my bad language. ‘You’ve not moved on,’ he says. ‘Neither have I. You can’t ignore how great we were together today.’
I ignore him. It takes every scrap of willpower I have. I sit myself back at the bar and drink my fresh glass of wine, glugging it down irresponsibly. The quiet around me should be making me squirm on my stool, but my fury is halting any discomfort that I could feel under the interested attention of the entire pub. I bet they’re all loving this. The drama, the gossip. The town jungle drums will be going wild.
‘David,’ Mum says, her heels clicking as she makes her way over. God love that woman. He’s just insulted her, and she’s not showing the slightest bit of offence. ‘Let’s step out—’
She’s interrupted when the door to the pub slams shut, sending a cool breeze gusting through the bar. There are a few more collective gasps. And then whispers, too.
Like something magnificent has just walked in.
Then I hear a familiar voice saying a polite, ‘Evening.’
And I know immediately that it has.
Chapter 5
Every single one of my nerve endings begin to tingle, my grip tightening on my glass as I stare at the top shelf of the bar. It’s silent – unnervingly silent. I keep myself facing forward, my heart now working up to a steady staccato, and peek to each side of me, seeing everyone in my field of vision looking towards the door – eyes wide, mouths hung open, hushed.
‘I believe you were asked to leave.’ Becker’s tone is dripping with threat that not even I would challenge. My round eyes shoot to my wine glass, which might shatter at any moment under the pressure of my grip. I need to loosen my hold, but this glass feels like it’s the only thing stopping me from tumbling from the stool in a flat-out panic.
‘Who the hell are you?’ David is on the defensive immediately, and I’m not at all surprised. I know I’m going to turn around and find Becker adorned in a fine suit, his scruff perfect, his specs resting on his perfect nose. David will feel threatened. No man appreciates Becker’s unholy godliness.
I sip more wine, despite knowing I need to stop drinking. Tackling David is one thing; Becker is a whole new level of willpower. Getting blind drunk won’t help me.
The silence is tangible, everyone’s interest obvious by the quiet and thick atmosphere.
‘Who I am is not your concern.’ I hear the even beats of Becker’s brogues coming closer and see Paul in front of me watching as something approaches behind. Or someone. Someone tall. I see him out the corner of my eye perch on a stool next to me, his knee close to mine. ‘Haig on the rocks, please.’
David is bristling behind me but, right now, I’m in no position to address the situation. I want to cut off both of their balls. I just can’t decide which one I want to hurt more. ‘What are you doing here?’ I hiss out the side of my mouth, refusing to look at him.
‘I’ve given you plenty of time to come to your senses,’ he states matter-of-factly, confidence oozing from his entire being. ‘Time’s up.’
‘You cannot be serious?’
‘Oh, I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life. Not masters of art. Not priceless treasures. Not even Gloria, and you know how I feel about my precious, priceless Aston.’ There would be nothing to stop my eyes from finding his after those words. His face is straight, serious, as he accepts his drink from a quiet Paul and raises his glass in thanks before taking a healthy swig, his hazel eyes on me. ‘And since old boyfriends seem to be on the prowl, things just got a whole lot more serious.’ His face remains impassive, though I sense the threat there. ‘I’m not giving up, Eleanor.’ He turns to David, who’s standing quietly behind us, probably gawping in disbelief. ‘You still here?’
‘Who the hell are you?’ My ex splutters again, somewhere between anger and genuine curiosity, trying to straighten out his soaked shirt.