Page 16 of Where He Ended
“Please, let's not talk about work right now,” Franklin says. “Tonight is about getting to know each other.”
He keeps sending looks at me, and I counter by staring into my empty glass. “What are we having to eat?” I ask, not because I'm hungry, but because I suddenly want to get this night over with as fast as possible. The sooner we get our food the sooner we can leave.
“Somethingspecial,” he says, drawing the last word out.
Annie and Silas exchange a look. “Will you excuse us for second?” she asks, rising to her feet. Silas stands, pushing his chair in, than hers. Both of them move through the archway that we entered. I wonder what they've gone off to talk about. Maybe the realized how weird this is, like I have.
“You haven't touched the water,” Franklin says. “Perhaps you'd like something stronger?”
“I'm only eighteen.” I give him a pointed look.
“No one would know but us,” he says, smiling wider. “Isn't it fun to be naughty?”
I'm trying so hard to pretend I don't hate his guts. I still remember what he said to me at the luncheon, about how he likes biters. I shudder at the memory. “They're sure taking awhile. Maybe I should check on them.”
His hands lie flat on the table. His nails are manicured neatly, if a bit plain, just like his house. Everything is sort of uninteresting, not much heart or life to it. It suits him. “They're fine. Forget about them.” He appraises me with a familiarity he doesn't deserve. “I'm so glad you wore that gold dress again. When I saw you in the ballroom, your hair swaying, that dress squeezing your curves, I knew I had to have you.”
Franklin reaches for me—I jerk backwards, jumping to my feet, sending my chair tumbling. “I'd like to leave now,” I say, as scathingly as I can. I'm struggling to hide my mounting terror. “Annie!” I call. “Silas!”
Some of his smile fades away. “They can't hear you. They wouldn't help you if they could.”
I'm beginning to hyperventilate. “There's no dinner, is there?” I back away, keeping my attention on him as I inch towards the archway. “This is some sick game. Annie! Silas! I—ah!” My heel catches the legs of the chair, knocking me on my ass.
Franklin prowls forward. The red walls reflect in his irises, giving him a demonic look. “Calm down,” he whispers gently. Crouching, he snatches at me. I think he's going for my arms, so I move them, but he grabs my braid, winding it like he's reeling in a fish. “You're making this into a bigger deal than it has to be.”
I claw at his sleeves. His thick jacket protects him. “Let me go! Whatever you want from me, I'm not giving it to you!”
His grip curls ever tenser. My scalp is a flaring ball of pain. Franklin lifts me until his lips brush my ear, his voice hoarse. “You know what I want. And you'll give it to me because I've already paid for it.”
