Aspiring Nobody--Dark Billionaire Romance

Chapter 27 The monster

ERIN'S POV

If Styles and I are barely civil now, I doubt we'll even be on talking terms after tonight. I walk to the car and get in. As much as I want to walk away, I am not strong enough to refuse my heart this time with him.

Minutes later, Styles slams his foot on the brake and the car comes to a screeching stop. Then he slams his hand down on the horn, yelling abuse at the minibus driver who just cut him off. I sink down in the seat.

The next few minutes are intense and have me hanging onto the door rest. He has all but ignored me, and his foul temper has left him with a heavy foot. When he runs a red light and his car is almost T-boned by a semi-trailer, I can't sit idle any more. "What's wrong with you? You're driving like a lunatic?"

He looks at me through the corner of his eye. "Yeah, well, maybe you've driven me to it."

I shake my head. "I knew this was a mistake."

"Why's that? Because you can't go five minutes without seeing your boyfriend?"

"Grow up," I say. "You sound like a jealous teenager right now."

"Jealous! Why would I be jealous of you and him?"

I wave my hand at him. "Ok. Sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"No. You shouldn't have? But yet again you've put me in a foul mood."

I huff. "Not that you're ever in a good one."

"That's bullshit, Erin!"

"Is it?"

"Maybe you were right. Maybe this was a mistake."

"Well, you can always take me back to the dorm and get Lana or Christy to go with you."

His face scrunches in outrage. "You were listening to my conversation with Christy?"

"Come off it. You were talking so loud your neighbors were listening."

His nostrils flare. "I can't believe you were listening!"

"I overheard you talking to her on my way to the kitchen, if you must know."

He groans. "Not that it matters, because I didn't get to see Christy that night or any other — no thanks to you."

"Me," I frown, "why are you blaming me?"

He waves a hand at me. "Never mind. And don't talk about Christy again."

I turn to face the window. "Oh, trust me, I won't. After tonight, you can just forget you know me, how about that!"

He doesn't say a word.

By five to seven, we're entering an upscale Italian restaurant at Circular Quay. The tension between Styles and me has just reached an all-time high. It's never been this bad between us before. I think he hates me. And I'm ready to find my own way back to the dorm.

After he confirms our booking, I follow him, taking in the strong garlic aroma and the noisy chatter coming from around the room. Ok, people are staring at us. Why are they staring? Is it my dress? Ok, so it looks a little too casual for fine dining. The only redeeming part of my outfit is Simone's black Fendi heels. Why did I wear this dress? Why didn't Styles tell me this dress wasn't appropriate?

When I spot a middle-aged man with a thick mane of silver hair waving at us, I think he is a customer from the club; until Styles gives him a one fingered wave. I sigh in relief. Besides wanting to get off my unsteady feet before I trip, I'm desperate to get to a table and hide this dress. I feel like every eye is on me right now.

After meeting Douglas, a gap-toothed man with a warm hand and a kind smile, I take the seat opposite him at the table. Styles sits to my left. Which leaves one empty chair. Unless Douglas has an invisible wife, he's brought no one to dinner. So why am I here? And who is the fourth chair for?

I stare down at the white tablecloth and shiny cutlery. It's not that I don't appreciate the invitation to dinner and a free meal, but now that I'm here, I am not sure why Styles was so insistent on me coming. If anything, I feel out-of-place. I didn't miss the surprised look from Douglas when he saw me.

"Where's Michael?" Styles asks.

Douglas looks up from his menu. "No idea." Then he goes on to tell Styles how Michael comes and goes as he pleases at work. That's when I zone out. I could bang my head against the table for agreeing to this. He didn't need a date. Which now has me wondering what he's up to?

"Here comes Michael," Douglas says with a raised brow.

With a curious peep over my shoulder, I see a blond man in a grey suit walking towards our table. Am I seeing things? No, it can't be him—it can't be! But one look at his evil dark eyes and my heart is racing and my hands shaking. The anticipation of what's about to happen has me breaking a cold sweat and pushing my shaky hands under the table.

Oh my God! Oh my God! What do I do? Disappearing under the table isn't a possibility. Nor is running from the table with my face covered.

Through the reflection of the window, I watch Michael greet Douglas with a playful punch to the upper arm. Then he shakes Styles' hand. Their greeting looks strictly business compared to the more relaxed greeting with Douglas.

"Erin, I'd like you to meet, Michael," Styles says. "He works with my father."

I'm in shock and feel like I can barely breathe. This moment feels terrifyingly surreal as I watch Michael take the empty seat. He looks astounded to see me, but unlike me, he quickly recovers with a bemused smirk. How in god's name do I sit across from the monster who blackened my eye and watched me turn freak for five shameful minutes of my life, and now pretend we've never met? That's if he doesn't expose my secret life right here, right this very second?