Page 7 of Loving the Tormentor

"Like hell I'll do it. I don't want to argue with some rich guy who could get me killed with a snap of his fingers and probably buy off the cops to pass it as a suicide."

I feel my eyes widen. "Can he do that?"

Shrugging, she grabs her pad. "I'm not about to find out is all I know. He's filthy rich. I don't mess with those. And neither should you…" She smiles brightly at me. "Once you tell him to leave."

I roll my eyes and head to his table with shaky legs. I guess it’s another excuse to talk to him. He's not doing anything, not even on his phone. He's just staring blankly at the table, and every few minutes, he turns around to check the entrance door or takes another sip of coffee.

"Hi," I say tentatively as I approach. I think I'm going to pass out. "Our boss just reminded us that unlimited coffee is for customers who eat here. Would you like to order something? Or I can get you your check."

My brain screams at me, not wanting Achilles Duval to leave. It's complete insanity. I don't even know the guy, but the parasocial relationship I've developed over the years makes me feel like I'm genuinely in love with him.

"The club sandwich is really good," I blurt out.

His piercing gray eyes don't even drop to the menu. They stay on me as he reaches inside his black jeans. He then proceeds to extend his hand toward me, and my body temperature rises so much I could melt on the spot. Pushing something inside the pocket of my apron, he taps my hip gently, making me freeze at how that simple touch tingles.

"Give me another twenty minutes." The lack of any emotion in his voice brings me back down to earth, and I turn around,robotically going back to the safe space behind the counter before I look at what's inside my pocket.

"Holy shit." My mouth drops as I pull out hundred-dollar bills. Five in total.

Laurie snatches them out of my hand and looks at Achilles's table.

"He can stay the whole fucking day if he wants." My boss snorts.

"Put that shit in the tip jar," Lena orders him, as if she's the one who owns the place.

She practically runs it, to be fair.

Twenty minutes later, Achilles checks the door again, then his phone. He presses it to his ear, throws his head back, and huffs. Running a hand through his black hair, he looks around the room, and he finally gives up.

I stand still, watching him as he exits, desperate to run after him.

"Fuck," I puff out, struggling to breathe. "Achilles Duval was at The Basement. I can't feel my legs."

"For heaven's sake," Colin says, exasperated. "Just go. Ask him on a date or something. Fate clearly put you in each other's way for a reason."

I give him ayou can’t be seriouslook. "All your fate talk makes you sound a bit insane."

"Yeah, 'cause imagining a fake relationship with him is so sane."

"At least he doesn't know about it," I throw back.

"Just go say hi in the parking lot. Tell him thank you for the huge tip or something."

Hope blooms in my chest. Fuck. I want to. I want to run after him and start a conversation. It could lead somewhere.

My body twitches, and Colin notices right away. "Nyx, go. You've got nothing to lose."

I take a step toward the door, and he nudges me to keep going. There’s so much adrenaline running through me that it feels like a life-or-death decision.

Fuck it.

I jog to the front door, open it, and stop dead in my tracks.

"Chase," I choke out.

It's worse than a freezing shower. Icompletelyforgot about my boyfriend. The real one I've been officially dating for two years, who I've known for four, not the music celebrity I’ve developed such a huge crush on, who I was about to throw my entire relationship away for.

"Hey, babe."