Chapter 227

Elsa

"So company business comes first," I said, keeping my voice neutral while my fingers nervously tapped against my thigh. "I understand."

"Drake's been deliberately creating conflicts between our companies," Bruce continued, his voice hardening. "He knew I wanted to help you, so he made sure I'd be too busy putting out fires."

I studied his profile, wondering how much of this was true and how much was Bruce trying to shift blame. The rivalry between Drake and Bruce went back years, predating me. It was convenient to blame Drake for everything, but was it accurate?

"Well, I appreciate you showing up today," I said, opting for diplomacy while my fingers twisted nervously in my lap.

As Bruce took a sharp turn, his body leaned toward mine, his cologne—expensive but too strong—filling the car. His hand casually dropped from the steering wheel to rest on the console between us, fingers splayed possessively.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, pressing myself closer to the door. "Where are we going?" I asked, suddenly noticing we weren't heading toward my apartment. My heart rate kicked up a notch.

"I thought we might get dinner," Bruce said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "You must be hungry after dealing with those vultures."

I gripped the edge of my seat so hard my knuckles turned white as Bruce turned into the parking lot of a restaurant. He hadn't even asked me if I wanted dinner—just assumed I'd go along with whatever he decided, like I was some kind of accessory to be carried around.

"Bruce, I'm not really in the mood for—" I started, my fingers nervously twisting the silver bracelet around my wrist.

"You need to eat," he interrupted, sliding smoothly into a parking space. "And we need to discuss some things about the Watsons." His tone left no room for argument as he killed the engine.

I bit back a sigh, running my fingers through my hair in frustration as my mind kept replaying the confrontation with Drake. The way his eyes had darkened when I chose Bruce. The slight twitch in his jaw when I pulled away from him. Why did I even care? I shouldn't give a damn how he felt. Fuck him and his possessive attitude.

Bruce was already out of the car, opening my door with exaggerated gallantry. "After you," he said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes.

The restaurant was upscale and crowded, all polished wood and crystal chandeliers. I nervously straightened my skirt, suddenly aware of how rumpled I must look after the day's events.

The hostess led us to a table by the window, and I was just settling into my seat, drumming my fingers anxiously against the tablecloth, when a familiar scent hit me. My head snapped up so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash.

"Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me," I muttered under my breath.

Drake stood at our table, his expression unreadable as he pulled out the chair across from me and sat down without invitation. His eyes, sharp and focused, locked onto mine with an intensity that made my skin prickle and my traitorous body respond with an unwelcome warmth.

"What the hell?" Bruce's voice was low and dangerous. "This is a private dinner, Stone."

Drake didn't even look at him, his gaze still fixed on me like I was the only person in the room. "All the other tables are taken," he said, his voice dripping with feigned innocence.

Bruce laughed, the sound brittle and false. "Did you install a tracking device on her or something? We go somewhere, and magically, you appear?"

I shifted uncomfortably, feeling trapped between these two alphas and their pissing contest. My teeth ground together as I clenched my jaw, and I took a sip of water to hide my trembling hands. The restaurant suddenly felt too warm, too small, and I fought the urge to bolt for the door.

As if on cue, three men in black suits entered the restaurant, Drake's security team. Each took a separate table, their presence commanding and unmistakable. Several other diners glanced over nervously.

"Jesus fucking Christ," I muttered under my breath, my face burning with embarrassment. "Could this be any more dramatic?"

Bruce leaned forward, placing his hand possessively over mine on the table. "Stone, I'm going to make this clear. Elsa is my girlfriend now. You need to leave."

I choked on my water, nearly spitting it across the table, my eyes bulging in shock. Girlfriend? When the hell had that happened? My free hand clenched into a tight fist under the table, nails digging painfully into my palm.

Drake's eyes darkened dangerously, zeroing in on Bruce's hand covering mine. "Interesting," he said, his voice deceptively calm. "Considering she's been with me for the past several days. In my bed." His lips curved into a cold smile. "From where I'm sitting, she's my woman."

My cheeks burned hot with embarrassment and anger, and I felt a bead of sweat trickle down my spine. "I'm sitting right fucking here," I hissed, yanking my hand away from Bruce with enough force to rattle the silverware. "And I'm nobody's goddamn woman."

I pushed my chair back with a screech against the floor, intending to leave this testosterone-soaked disaster, but Bruce caught my wrist. "Don't go. He's just trying to upset you."

Drake's eyes fixed on Bruce's fingers around my wrist, his expression turning glacial. "Take your hand off her," he said, each word distinct and chilling. "Unless you don't want it anymore."

The threat hung in the air, heavy and real. Bruce slowly released me, but his eyes held a challenge. I rubbed my wrist reflexively, pulse hammering beneath my skin.

I stood up, my patience completely gone, chair wobbling behind me. "I've lost my appetite," I announced, my voice shaking with rage. "Every time I see you, I can't even fucking eat!" I directed this at Drake, jabbing a finger toward him, my whole body trembling with emotion.

Something flickered in his eyes—was that concern? He knew about my stomach problems, how stress made it impossible for me to keep food down. To my complete surprise, he stood up, straightening his suit jacket with a controlled motion.

"Enjoy your dinner," he said to Bruce, his voice flat. Then he walked out of the restaurant without another word, his security team falling in behind him.