Page 10 of The Lies Of Omission (Without Limits #3)

And I had a gut-deep feeling I knew exactly who had just arrived. A deep breath did nothing to settle the unease crawling under my skin.

As conversation resumed and the tension bled back into the low murmur of clinking cutlery and champagne flutes, I kept my eyes on the lobby doors, waiting for the inevitable hurricane.

I didn’t have to wait long.

In strutted Elias Ballantyne, all swagger and wealth, like he thought the room owed him applause. Tailored within an inch of his ego, he scanned the restaurant like he was selecting a new toy. Behind him trailed his trio of smirking clones—pressed linen, expensive watches, dead eyes.

And then he saw me.

“Well, look who it is,” Elias drawled, a grin spreading across his face like oil. “Brookhaven’s finest surprise.”

I resisted the urge to sigh. “Welcome to Brookhaven Ridge Country Club, Mr. Ballantyne.”

He sauntered up to the bar with the lazy confidence of someone who’d never been told no in his life. He leaned in, elbow propped, gaze raking down my body like he was choosing a cut of steak.

“Tell me,” he said, voice low and smooth, “do they hire bartenders here for their skills... or their cheekbones?”

“Just talent and trauma,” I replied coolly. “Looks are a free bonus.”

He laughed. “I was hoping there’d be some talent here today.”

I offered him a smile sharp enough to draw blood. “I live to disappoint.”

“Oh, I don’t think you’d disappoint anyone.”

A shadow fell across the gleaming mahogany bar.

Clean, tailored, cut from glass and fire.

Theo stepped in, stillness like coiled wire, presence colder than the champagne in my hands.

His eyes went straight to Elias—controlled, professional—but when they flicked to me, just for a heartbeat, something else was there. Fire. Warning. Longing?

I didn’t move.

“Mr. Ballantyne,” Theo spoke smoothly. “Your party’s table is ready. The Lake Room has been prepared as requested.”

Elias barely turned. “Perfect.” Then he jabbed a finger in my direction. “And I want him to serve us.”

Theo didn’t react. Not outwardly. But I saw it. The micro-tension in his jaw. The blink he had to force away. The storm behind his eyes.

“I’m sure we can arrange someone?—”

“No,” Elias cut him off. “It’s him , or I’m taking this meeting elsewhere.”

A dead silence fell. Like someone had cut the music to hear the oncoming car crash. My throat dried. I forced a grin like I hadn’t just been voluntold into a dinner party with the devil. “Guess I’m your lucky charm today.”

Theo didn’t answer. Just nodded tightly and turned on his heel. The clones followed without uttering a word, and my stomach twisted into knots.

Before leaving, Elias leaned over the bar again. His breath ghosted near my ear. “Bring your best champagne... and your worst behavior.”

I barely held back a shudder.

Claire met my eyes, concern etched in her expression. “You okay?”

“Nope,” I uttered quietly.

“I’ve got the bar. Go. Try not to murder anyone.”

I loaded a bottle of Dom Pérignon and three flutes onto a tray, pasted on a smile like it was war paint, and walked through the doors to the private Lake Room.

The next hour was a slow descent into purgatory.

Elias grew bolder with every pour, hands brushing too close, comments toeing the line between inappropriate and offensive.

His laughter was smug and slurred, eyes glassy with champagne and entitlement.

His friends—those interchangeable loafers with Ivy League smiles—egged him on like they were still in some frat house basement.

My stomach twisted tighter with each pass of his gaze. But I kept my voice smooth and my hands steady. I’d had years of practice performing under pressure—years of learning how to make myself small without seeming weak, agreeable without being complicit.

I’d grown up in a world like this, a glittering cage dressed up as privilege.

One where people saw me as a decoration, not a person.

A bargaining chip. A pawn. That’s why I’d cut the strings.

Why I’d flipped the script with my parents.

Why I built a life on my terms—and ultimately why they disowned me.

Because no one else was going to protect me.

So I smiled. I poured. I waited.

Until he crossed the line.

Elias’s fingers clamped around my wrist as I set down another fresh bottle of Dom, his grip like a vice. “You should stay,” he murmured, breath warm and thick with champagne. “It’s not like the others here appreciate you.”

I jerked back, but his hold tightened.

“Don’t be shy,” he said, voice slurring. “I know your type. You want someone who can buy your attention.”

“That’s not—” My protest died on my tongue when he yanked me forward and pulled me down onto his lap .

I froze.

His hand slid brazenly up the inside of my thigh, knuckles grazing a place no one had any damn right to touch. My breath caught, my body stiff with shock. My heart pounded loud enough to drown out the room. Laughter echoed. One of his friends whistled.

I was a prop again. A thing.

Just like before.

“Let go of me,” I snarled, low and dangerous.

But he just smirked. “Relax. You’re pretty when you pretend you’re not into it.”

The sound of a door banging into the wall behind us made Elias’s grip tighten.

“Get your hands off him.” The words weren’t loud. But they were lethal.

Elias blinked up, squinting as Theo’s shadow fell over us both. He was all clean lines and sharp edges, but there was nothing cold about him now. His eyes were fire. Wild, contained only by sheer force of will.

“Excuse me?” Elias slurred.

“You heard me,” Theo said, voice low, deadly calm. “Let. Him. Go.”

Elias laughed, drunkenly, like this was some joke. “You getting jealous, Theo?”

Theo didn’t answer. He just stepped closer. There was something in his posture—tight, measured—that finally made Elias hesitate. His fingers loosened just enough for me to rip myself away.

I staggered back, heart hammering, skin crawling. Theo moved instantly, placing himself between us, like a shield. I saw his hands at his sides, clenched into fists so tight his knuckles had gone white.

“You’ve had too much to drink,” Theo spoke slowly and evenly. “And you’ve just sexually assaulted a member of my staff. You’ll leave. Now.”

Elias stood, swaying. “You think you can tell me what to do? You work for my father’s friend , Theo. Remember your place.”

Theo smiled.

It was terrifying.

“I know exactly where my place is,” he replied. “And it’s not kissing your ass while you pretend rape culture is just old-school flirting.”

Elias’s smirk vanished. “This isn’t over,” he hissed.

Theo didn’t blink. “Yes. It is.”

Security had appeared in the doorway, summoned silently. Theo didn’t need to signal. The tone of his voice said it all. They moved to flank Elias and his little entourage, who, for once, weren’t laughing.

I stood frozen, shaking.

“Sin.” Theo’s voice was quiet now. Soft. “Come with me.”

I followed him out of the room without a word, my legs numb, my chest tight. He led me down a narrow hallway, away from the noise and the light. We stopped at a back entrance, the kind usually reserved for staff smoke breaks or post-shift breakdowns.

He turned, and I finally looked at him—really looked at him. His jaw was tight, but his eyes were molten. No longer cold. No longer guarded.

“For fuck’s sake,” he breathed. “He touched you.”

“I’m fine,” I said automatically.

“You’re not fine.”

He took a step closer. “He put his hands on you and I just—” He stopped himself, fingers dragging through his hair. “I wanted to strangle him.”

My heart thudded. Silence stretched thick and hot between us. Suffocating.

I should’ve stepped away.

I didn’t.

Neither did he.

His gaze dropped to my mouth. My breath caught. We were too close. The world blurred at the edges—just him and me and this terrible, impossible pull.

“Theo…”

“I can’t do this,” he whispered.

“Then why are you still standing here?”

His hand hovered like he wanted to touch me, but didn’t trust himself. I reached up. Just barely. My fingers brushed his wrist. That was all it took. He surged forward, hands framing my face, breath mingling with mine.

But the kiss didn’t come.

Instead, his forehead dropped to mine.

“I want you,” he breathed, voice wrecked. “But if I cross that line, I won’t come back.” I didn’t move. “And you deserve someone who isn’t at war with himself every goddamn second.”

“You don’t get to decide what I deserve,” I whispered.

He pulled back then. Just enough to break the contact. Just enough to gut me. “Go home, Sin.”

My throat tightened. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

No argument. No emotion in his tone. Just his walls slamming down—again—with a finality as the door slammed shut behind me.

I didn’t say goodbye to anyone. I clocked out, grabbed my jacket, and practically stormed to the car park. The cool night air slapped at my face like it was trying to sober me up from whatever the hell that was.

“Whoa,” came Thalia’s voice. She was leaning against my car, cigarette in hand, black coat swishing around her legs. “You look like someone just shoved your heart into a blender.”

“Something like that,” I muttered.

She flicked her cigarette away and slid into the passenger seat like she’d done it a thousand times. “The Hollow?”

“Obviously.”

We drove in silence, the radio low, streetlights passing in blurry streaks. Drinks clinked in our hands twenty minutes later at a back booth in The Hollow, that low, moody bar where regrets were served on ice.

Thalia sipped her bourbon and studied me. “You like him.”

“No shit.”

“I mean like -like.”

“Still no shit.”

She leaned in, serious now. “Sin... I’m warning you. Theo’s not simple. He’s buried under pressure, guilt, and family expectations. And he’s terrified of wanting anything that might make it all fall apart.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing.” I took a long sip of my drink, my throat burning. “I don’t care if he’s complicated,” I said finally. “I just...”

“Yes, you do.” She leaned in, all fierce eyes and sharp edges. “You’re falling for someone who will cut you to pieces if you’re not careful.”

“I can handle it.”

“Can you?” She studied me. “Because I’ve seen him destroy himself over doing the right thing. You don’t want to be collateral damage in his moral crisis.”

I said nothing.

She sighed. “Just… don’t make him your lifeboat, Sin. He’s drowning, too.”

And I had no idea how to stop us both from going under.

“Anyway.” She sipped her two-for-one cocktail. “I believe I promised you my story.”

I huffed a laugh. “Great topic change. Yay, story time.” I took another swig of my drink as she launched into a monologue that distracted me from my fucked up life.