Page 4 of Silver Sinner

LAYLA

"What?"

The man staring up at me with wide brown eyes is, to some extent, handsome.

His long nose, pointed chin, and slicked back hair remind me of a cartoon rat from a movie I saw not too long ago.

His two friends on the opposite side of the booth shove into one another, muffling their laughter behind their teeth, and a scuffle rises from beneath the table as if they're urging one another on with kicks.

"Go out with me," the rat-faced man repeats.

Heat flushes across my chest, and a sharp rush of hot goosebumps form across my shoulder. It's like the diner has fallen away and a gigantic spotlight has crashed through the ceiling to highlight me to everyone within earshot.

Despite the strain on my jaw, I force my smile to remain in place. "No."

"No?" His thick brows lift. "You haven't even had time to consider it.”

"I've had time. I'm not looking for anything, thank you."

"Listen." The man sniffs deeply. "I'm Adam. Trust me when I say I could show you a damn good time and by the look of you, you've not had someone show you that in a while."

His friends erupt into loud laughter, collapsing against one another while Adam's gaze wanders down to my waist and then back up to my face.

If the ground could open up and swallow me right now, that would be great. Naturally, that doesn't happen, so I play it off the same way I do whenever someone else thinks I'd make the perfect date for them. Of course, those people are usually already drunk when they arrive, and this guy seems as sober as a plank of wood.

"No, thank you."

"Seriously?" Adam scoots closer to the edge of the booth. "I'm offering you the best night of your life! I mean, when was the last time you had someone as hot as me interested in you? I don't even care that you're fat." He leans forward and lowers his voice. "Maybe don't sit on my lap though, yeah?"

Heat flares across my cheeks as his words land with the force of a physical blow, and I take one step back as a rush of weakness pulls through my legs.

I'm going to be sick.

My mind screams at me to say something, to snap back at him for being so disgustingly rude or that I'd never date someone as foul as him, but the words don't come. I can only stare at him as the entire world around me seems to double in size.

I can't speak.

But I can act.

I don't even remember tipping the ice water into his lap, but suddenly he's on his feet with ice cubes raining down onto the floor around him and a massive wet patch soaking into his light blue jeans.

The jug in my hand is infinitely lighter and my heart pounds like it's about to break right out of my chest.

"You bitch!" Adam snarls. "What the actual fuck is wrong with you, you fat cunt?!"

He steps forward and I⁠—

I blink.

I'm pressed back against the counter, nestled between two stools, while someone else stands between me and Adam’s fury.

Someone tall, with a well-fitted gray suit jacket covering broad shoulders and a head of thick, dark hair with thousands of silver and white streaks combed through like swirls of mint mixing with dark chocolate.

The scent of spice and mango floods my lungs as I breathe in, and it clicks who it is.

Pierce.

He was sitting two booths down, eating hash browns and eggs with black coffee, while his poor friend wrestled with our bad steak.