9 ~ I wouldn't spend a second in your company

I keep nodding and laughing for the rest of the dinner without really listening carefully to what is the topic about , and even when I try to focus, I understand nothing of what they say, as they do nothing but talk about

business and business.

At this point I mentally curse myself for not having attended economics, it would have been worth it

even just to understand the words that come out of Edward's mouth.

As soon as my phone signals the arrival of a message, I take the opportunity to slowly stand up:

"If you allow me, I'll be back soon ..." - I take the bag in one hand, while Edward beckons me with his

head.

I reach the bathroom with a soft step, entering without even closing the door behind me, and then lean on

the polished black marble sink.

I turn on the faucet with the intention of rinsing my face, but then remember that I cannot, unless

I want to ruin my makeup, so I open my bag and go in search of a lipstick.

"If you want to escape from the window, I'll help you." - I jump as soon as James's hoarse voice gets straight to my ears, then turn around

on his side to offend him in each language I know.

"I don't want to run away." - I snort as he leans against the door jamb.

"So you came to fix your makeup, since Edward is ignoring you as shit." -he concludes approaching

with slow footsteps behind me, then leans against the sink next to me.

Only now I realize how tall and menacing he is compared to my small body, but I try to avoid it and

continue to pass the lipstick on my lips, despite I feel his gaze on me.

He raises a hand, and then grabs a lock of my hair between the thumb and forefinger, making every single muscular fiber of my body contract at hi simple, ironic gesture : I look at him carefully

through his reflection on the mirror as he brings my hair close to his face and smells it, as if it was

normal for someone who hates me.

"Is it a way to tell me that I have beautiful hair?" - I don't move away and let him do it, amazed by his damn move.

He makes a face and steps back without answering my question, resuming his annoyed and disgusted face.

I shake my head and lean forward slightly, continuing my artwork but his gaze

makes me very uncomfortable, so I decide to open my mouth without thinking twice.

"If I'm so ugly that I can't be compared to a model, then why are you eating me with your

eyes?"

He laughs ironically showing two long and perfect pits on either side of his mouth, but I look away when

he gets serious again.

"Do you think I'm here because I'm attracted by you?"-he says with such a disgusted tone that I hold myself in order not to show how his words hurt, letting him continue with the same cold attitude:

"I wouldn't spend a second in your company." - I take a deep breath to pretend being indifferent to the way he's talking to me, as he finally explains me the reason he's here:

"Edward told me to keep an eye on you and that's what I'm doing. »-he fold his arms, while the former

shirt buttons seem about to leap from their place over the contracted muscles of his chest.

I don't know why his answer hits me right in the face like a hard slap, but I decide not to argue with him, just to make him understand he's not important to me, and I hurry to finish in order not to spend another moment in the same room with this asshole.

I pass him annoyed, even if I feel his presence behind me.

When I find myself in front of my table I take a deep breath, and then take a seat in front of Edward,

who is still busy discussing the importance of the new brand of the company with Marc.

I rest my chin on the palm of my hand, waiting for the two to remember my presence, while I feel my stomach grumbling for how hungry I am.

I observe the dish with insistence, imagining that I have a whole fried chicken in front of it and as a second dish

chicken heart with baked potatoes and eggplant.

It was a dish invented by my grandmother Caroline, but it was not healthy for my mother who began not to cook it

anymore, inventing that chickens didn't have a heart in Compton.

From that moment on I began to believe that some chickens were born with a heart, others without.

I realize that dinner is over when I hear the chairs crawl on the floor and Edward get up first, followed by the other, who orders the waiter to bring him the jacket and the bill.

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