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Chapter Twenty-Five
Ariella
Harper held her menu up, oblivious to the fact that I’d tried getting her attention. The restaurant was crowded and busy, but she seemed distracted.
“I don’t think she hears you,” Hazel said.
I put my menu down, waiting for Harper to glance up.
She didn’t budge in the slightest.
Our table was sandwiched into the café, giving very little elbow room, let alone space for privacy.
While I couldn’t make out any distinct conversations, I noticed Jayden sitting at the table just behind Harper.
I hadn’t met him firsthand, but I knew of him. Everyone in Breckenridge by now knew he was one of the few surviving off-gridders.
How had he survived the massacre from the Russian mob when they’d blown in and slaughtered everyone?
I didn’t recognize the gentleman that Jayden was with. I couldn’t recall ever seeing him before in town. The mysterious man wore an expensive suit and was sharply dressed, obviously well off.
It stood out with Jayden in his dark black jeans and a white t-shirt that hugged his chest. He was tall but not taller than the mysterious man who sat across from him.
“Harper,” I said, trying again to steal away her attention from the menu.
She lowered the menu, her eyes wide, filled with trepidation.
“What is it?” I asked.
Had she forgotten her wallet or something? She looked terrified.
“I need to—” Harper stood and didn’t finish her sentence. She grabbed her purse off her chair and high-tailed it out of the restaurant.
“Bathroom?” I guessed, glancing at Hazel. Maybe she could decrypt what I had missed. Where else had she gone off to?
Hazel sipped her glass of water. “You go check on her. I’ll wait here.”
“Thanks.” I stood and hurried after Harper, trying to figure out what happened.
What had I missed?
Maybe she wasn’t feeling well. I followed her into the bathroom.
Harper stood hovering over the sink, her hands on either side of the porcelain. The color had drained from her face.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“I heard his voice.”
“Whose?” I asked, taking a step closer. I rested a hand on her back. Her body trembled.
“Enzo, my husband.”
Shit.
Since when was she married? I ran a hand through my hair, surprised by the news. “You’re married?” My voice squeaked, betraying me. Lincoln would be even more shocked than me, and not happy about it.
I’d never heard about her marrying anyone, but then again, I did not read the tabloids or check out the gossip columns in the entertainment papers. I had heard of Harper Madison before her arrival in Breckenridge.