Love Me Back (Amelia and Daniel) novel Chapter 349

Thankfully, at least it was a waitress and not someone more important—less humiliating that way. Amelia shot Daniel a glare, trying to hide the flush on her cheeks. “Swap the ice cream for a bowl of nourishing pear soup,” she told the waitress.

The waitress gave her a look—part surprise, part knowing amusement.

Once they’d finished ordering, Daniel leaned in, “Did Mogan say anything besides stuff about Violet?”

Amelia glanced at him, puzzled. “You seem awfully concerned about Mogan talking to me.”

“He’s not a good guy.” Daniel’s face was unreadable. “I’m just looking out for you. Next time you see him, keep your distance.”

Amelia’s lips curled in a sardonic smile. “If you’d just stay away from me, Violet and her little lapdog would too. You’re the root of all this—don’t you get that?”

Daniel snorted. “Always got some excuse to push me away. Heartbreaker.”

Amelia couldn’t even be bothered to argue. Her only purpose tonight was to have this dinner with him, so he’d agree to have Cedric protect Ruby.

She ate the meal as if she were checking off a chore.

The more Daniel looked at her, the more frustrated he felt. “Can’t you at least make conversation?”

“That’s a different fee,” Amelia replied coolly.

Daniel let out a short, incredulous laugh. “Fine. Name your price. How much would it take for you to actually talk to me?”

“Sign the divorce papers, and I’ll say whatever sweet nothings you want to hear.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow. “On second thought, maybe you should just stay mute.”

Amelia finished eating and made to leave, her speed rivaling someone clocking out of a miserable job. Mr. Campbell, clearly annoyed, started nitpicking. “What kind of restaurant did you pick? The food’s awful.”

Then, not content with criticizing the food, he turned his attention to her. “And what are you wearing? That skirt is so short your waist is showing.”

Amelia rolled her eyes, refusing to argue with someone whose sense of style was stuck in the last century. When he mentioned her waist, she tossed a casual remark over her shoulder as she grabbed her bag, “Funny, Mogan asked me today if I had a birthmark on my waist.”

Daniel went rigid.

The next second, he caught her hand. “I’m still hungry. Come with me to another place.”

Amelia wondered why everyone was suddenly so interested in her birthmark. She shot Daniel a look, but his face was calm—too calm, as if he’d asked just for the sake of conversation.

“No. Why would I tell him something like that?”

Daniel let out a barely audible sigh of relief, as if a weight had finally been lifted.

A waiter appeared with the next course, setting a white porcelain plate on the table. Daniel suddenly gestured to Amelia, directing her attention to the waiter’s hand. “What do you think of his tattoo?”

The waiter was a handsome guy with a buzzcut; his fingers were long and lean, and the bold tattoo snaking up his wrist looked striking.

“It’s cool,” Amelia said.

Daniel, suddenly inspired, grinned. “How about we get tattoos together?”

Amelia blinked. “Excuse me?”

“A matching set,” Daniel replied, as casual as if he were suggesting dessert. “On our waists—hidden, so only the other person would ever see it.”