Page 115 of Watching Her

“I never thought I’d see you in a pair of well-worn jeans. I also never thought we’d have dinner at a pizza parlor, let alone my favorite pizza parlor.”

He grinned before taking another bite of the supreme pizza, also my favorite. “Pizza parlor. I haven’t heard that in years.”

“What my father used to call it.”

While his bites were huge, I nibbled with eagerness to see how he’d respond. He’d swallowed within seconds. “You really don’t know me very well.”

“I know you’re a very powerful man with a penchant for control. I also know you’re used to the finer things in life. What I find interesting is that you hide so much of yourself, including from prying eyes.”

Another surprise. He’d ordered what would be considered a cheap bottle of Chianti to go with our pizza.

“Meaning?” he asked as he poured refills in our glasses. He did so without taking his eyes off me.

“Meaning there’s very little about you on the internet, including pictures with you and another woman.”

“You’ve been searching the internet to discover who I am.”

“Haven’t you been doing the same about me? You knew I loved pizza and my favorite place.”

“You mentioned it in our conversations.”

I pulled a piece of crust apart, considering how to answer. “A man like you remembered?”

He lifted his glass, swirling the liquid. “A man like me. Alright. You’re right in that a man in my position would be foolish not to ascertain all the information about someone I care about before allowing myself to do so. However, remembering you adored pizza was nothing I needed to skulk in the dark to discover. I enjoy making you smile. If that’s a crime, arrest me.”

“Very funny, but I suspect you really are a stalker. At least you’re not like the troll I mentioned.” The man’s death had nagged me since learning about what had occurred.

Now I was testing him since asking him directly seemed as ridiculous as my thoughts and concerns. However, Carrington’s words along with Marlee’s kept me questioning my sanity if nothing else.

Christian cocked his head. “Because I’m not harassing you about your choice in reading material? I must admit I’ve never read a romance book.”

“It figures. No, because he’s dead. From what I read, the police found a world of material on how far he’d gone with his obsessions.” I studied his reaction, uncertain if I hoped there would be one or he’d seem passive.

He chose the latter. Not a single flicker in his eyes. “Are you suggesting I had something to do with his death? I admit I didn’t like what you told me.”

“Did you?” I chomped on the crust, a warmth pooling in my stomach. Was it excitement or worry that he’d tell me his hands should be stained with blood? I’d already noticed his bruised knuckles, yet to ask him about what had happened. My curiosity gave me away when I shifted my gaze to his hand.

He held up his arm, flexing his fingers, but not as if registering I’d noticed. Instead, as if telling me he’d enjoyed what he’d done.

“I handle business as necessary, including difficult people.”

“Does that mean your business trip took you to St. Louis?”

A slow and steady smile spread across his face. “I went to Atlanta. I had a disagreement with an employee, but I assure you, I didn’t use my fist on his face.”

“Then what happened with your hand?”

He continued to display amusement. “Let’s just say I had a disagreement with a wall.”

“Ouch.”

“Even I lose my temper from time to time.”

“Well, there’s no need to stalk or otherwise maim all the people in my world you don’t like.”

I shifted my concentration to my wineglass, not expecting him to reach across the table, cupping my face. “Don’t you realize by now I will do anything I can to protect you?”

The look in his eyes was more intense than before he’d left, but he was also questioning me. “I don’t need protection.”