DASHIELL
"I'm honored you decided to go on your lunch break with me, Dashiell," Anthony said with a smirk as he leaned back against his chair.
I sat stiffly across from him in the upscale restaurant, the kind with crisp white tablecloths and waiters who spoke in hushed voices. My fingers tapped a steady rhythm against my thigh under the table. I had only agreed to this because Anthony had insisted it was "important family business" and I hated being rude. Now I was regretting it.
I glanced around at the expensive decor and the tiny portions on nearby plates.
"This restaurant is very… fancy," I said "My lunch break is only forty-five minutes. There is no logical reason to come somewhere this expensive when I could have eaten a sandwich in the hospital cafeteria in ten minutes."
Anthony chuckled, clearly amused. "You really don't like wasting time, do you? That's refreshing. Most people pretend to enjoy these places."
I shrugged. "I see no point in pretending. So what do you want to talk about?"
Anthony leaned forward, placing his hand on the table near mine. His eyes lingered on my face with open interest.
"I'll be honest," he said, voice dropping. "I've had my eyes on you for years now. Ever since you used to come to the hospital with your father. I guess I didn't move fast enough… and you ended up forced to marry my psychopath of a brother."
My cheeks flushed hot. I blinked at him, surprised.
"You… like me?"
"Still do," Anthony replied without hesitation, his blue eyes locked on mine.
I blinked, processing that. My fingers tapped lightly against the edge of the table. "That's… direct."
He laughed softly. "I figured you'd appreciate directness."
The waiter brought our food. I poked at my salad, appetite suddenly gone. Anthony watched me for a moment before continuing.
"Well, let me go straight to the point," he said, leaning closer. "How is your relationship with Alexander?"
I answered honestly. "It is fine."
Anthony's expression softened into something almost pitying. "Dash, you don't need to pretend. My brother is a monster. A handsome, brilliant man like you should not be stuck with him."
I frowned, my foot rubbing against my ankle under the table. "Alexander isn't a monster. He's… difficult. But he's not what you're saying."
Anthony sighed. "I know my mother spoke to you. I'm not going to repeat what she said. All I want to say is that you can leave this forced marriage. Our hospital will not stop helping Harper Medical. And if you agree to leave… I can pursue you properly. Wouldn't you want to be with someone who actually likes you? Someone who will treat you like a human being instead of a possession?"
I stared at him, my fingers tapping faster against the table.
"I did not marry Alexander because I was forced," I said carefully. "I made a choice. And I do not appreciate you speaking about my husband like that."
Anthony sighed, looking genuinely concerned. "I'm only looking out for you, Dash. Because I like you. Alexander is horrible."
Before I could respond, Anthony reached into his jacket and pulled out his phone, his expression turned serious.
"I didn't want to show you this… but you have to see it for yourself."
He unlocked the phone, scrolled for a moment, then turned the screen toward me.
My stomach dropped.
On the screen was a photo of a very ugly, jagged scar running across Anthony's shoulder and upper chest, deep, twisted, clearly old but still horrifying.
I stared at it, eyes wide, toes curling hard inside my shoes. My fingers stopped tapping completely.
"That…" I swallowed. "That looks very painful."
"Yes," Anthony said quietly, closing the phone. "My own brother did that to me. And that's not all. When we were younger, he would kill our pets. Cats, dogs… even the birds and rabbits in the garden. Just for fun. He felt nothing. No remorse. He's not right, Dash. He never has been."
I sat there, heart beating fast, a heavy mix of shock, discomfort, and disbelief swirling in my chest. My foot-rubbing had become almost frantic.
I did not know what to say.
******
The lunch had gone on longer than I liked, but I had managed to finish my salad and stay polite. Now we stood in front of the hospital entrance, the afternoon sun too bright against my eyes. I shifted on the balls of my toes, fingers tapping rapidly against my thigh.
Anthony reached into his car and pulled out a neatly wrapped gift bag with a soft smile.
"Please, I insist," he said, holding it out to me. "I got them for you. And also for taking part of your time."
I stared at the elegant bag, feeling immediate discomfort. Gifts always made me feel awkward, I never knew the correct response or how to react without seeming rude.
"You didn't have to get me anything," I said directly, not reaching for it yet. "Lunch was enough. I don't need presents."
Anthony chuckled, still holding the bag toward me. "It's just a small token. Think about what I said, Dash."
He pressed the bag gently into my hands. I took it reluctantly, fingers tightening around the handles. Inside, I could feel something soft, probably clothes or fabric.
"Thank you," I said, because that was the polite thing, even if I felt uneasy. "But I really should get back to work."
Anthony smiled, that charming, polished smile that didn't quite reach his eyes the way Alexander's rare ones did. "Of course. Take care of yourself."
He got into his car and drove off.
I stood there for a moment, holding the gift bag, my foot rubbing against my ankle as I tried to process everything he had said.
It felt… wrong.
I turned around to head back inside and immediately froze.
Alexander was standing just a few feet away, near the main entrance, watching me with that cold, unreadable expression. His eyes flicked from the gift bag in my hands to my face, then back to the bag.
My stomach dropped.
"Alexander," I said, voice quieter than I wanted. My fingers tightened on the bag handles. "It's… not what it looks like. Anthony asked me to lunch to talk about family stuff. He gave me this before leaving."
Alexander walked toward me slowly, he stopped right in front of me, towering over my smaller frame, and reached out to take the gift bag from my hands without asking.
He looked inside for a second, then handed it back.
His voice was flat, dangerously calm.
"What did my brother want?"
I swallowed, toes curling inside my shoes. "He… said he likes me. And that I should leave you. He showed me a scar and said you did it to him when you were younger. And something about pets…"
I looked up at him, blunt as always. "Is any of that true?"
Alexander stared down at me, expression completely blank. For a long moment he said nothing.
Then he reached out and brushed his thumb slowly across my lower lip, the touch deceptively gentle.
"Yes," he said flatly, voice calm and ice-cold. "Most of it is true."
My stomach twisted. I searched his face, looking for something, guilt, regret, discomfort but there was nothing. Just that terrifying, empty calm.