I want to scream.
You’re disgusting.
My fingers twitch at my sides, itching to tear the dress off. To tear myskinoff.
Fuck.
The urge to raid the kitchen hits hard. I want to fill myself up until I’m too full to feel anything—until the self-loathing quiets down, just for a moment.
The intercom buzzes, snapping me out of it.
I slip on a pair of heels and hurry to answer, pressing the button. “I’ll be down in a minute.” I don’t invite him up. I can’t. Not like this.
Tom is waiting outside when I finally join him. His grin spreads instantly, his eyes trailing over me in a way that makes my skin crawl. I force a smile. Pretend I don’t want to turn around and go back inside.
We walk side-by-side to the restaurant—some expensive place with candles and quiet music and plates the size of coasters. Tiny food at outrageous prices. Maybe that’s a blessing. I shouldn’t be eating much anyway.
He places a hand on the small of my back as we step inside. I stiffen but don’t move. Don’t react. Be polite. Be normal.
Inside, there’s a buzz of pompousness that grates on me. I have nothing against those with money—hell, I’m hardly struggling myself—but there’s something about the ones that flaunt it. The ones who turn their noses up at those they deem inferior. That’s what this place feels like.
By the time we’re seated, I already regret saying yes. The conversation so far has been a dull recap of work gossip and polite nothings.
“So,” Tom says once our wine glasses are full, “tell me about you.”
I lift one brow. “What do you want to know?”
He laughs, the sound grating on my nerves. “Likes, dislikes, hobbies, family… give me something.”
I plaster on a smile, picking the safest option. “My parents are still in Italy,” I say, my voice softening slightly at the thought of my dad. “They’ve retired now. Little cottage near the vineyards.”
It’s the first real smile I’ve managed all evening.
The waitress appears to take our order.
Before I can speak, Tom answers for me. Like he’s doing me a favour.
I grit my teeth.
Smile.
Say nothing.
I’m not a violent person. Not usually.
But right now, I’d quite like to jab my fork into his smug little temple.
4
You Touched What’s Mine
Eli's Search History: Thomas Moore Psychologist marital status
Eli
Forapsychologist,you’dthink her date would be better at reading people.
What was he thinking bringing her to a place like this?