Her CEO Stalker and Her Second Chance Mate Chapter 130

Briar

The guys in the corner stilled watching and I dragged Miranda outside. I didn’t want to disrupt the other patrons. A few onlookers paused to watch.

I snarled into her ear. “The only one who is pathetic is you. The only reason Carter stuck his dick in you that night was because he was blinded by grief. I’m not stupid, you knew exactly what you were doing.” I hissed “Leave him the hell alone, you worthless excuse for a fucking human being. And just so you know a man has the right to refuse a woman just like a woman has the right to refuse a man. He turned you down then dumped you and you still insist on holding onto what you never really had.” I yanked her head farther back feeling a lot stronger suddenly then I really was. She struggled and her eyes went wild, a feeling pulsed out of me and she stilled. “Leave us all alone, and that includes him, if he wanted you all he had to do was come find you. So what does that tell you?” She gritted her teeth as that presence pushed further out and Miranda fell to her knees, only being held up by the hair which  I still gripped in my hand. She was weak and I found a beautiful sense of feeling whole, “He dosen’t belong to you,” I said, giving her my back. Something I instinctively felt would be a slight to her. She whined. What a pitiful bitch, I thought, striding back inside. One of the guys from the table was talking to the emo girl intimately up in her space while the others eyed me with a mix of satisfaction and awe. I sat across from Lana who was halfway through her pie as I returned to my slice as if nothing happened. Lana eyed me, her eyes watching the guys as I heard them file out the door behind me.

I caught Lana smirking as I dug into the next slice. The pizza I realized as I took a bite seemed to have everything but the kitchen sink and anchovies on it.

“What?” I asked as the emo girl walked up and both of our eyes went to look up at her.

“Thanks for that.” she said shyly.

“What?” I found myself asking again.

“She’s been trying to get my guy to bed her, no doubt she was going to come up in here to paw at him in my face. I’m not good with conflict.” she added.

“So she can’t stand anyone having what she can’t have?” I asked and the girl snorted cutely.

“Pretty much,” the girl agreed.

“Briar,” I said, holding out my hand.

“Marci,” she replied taking my hand in a shake.

“Can I get you guys anything else?”

“No I think we are good,”

“You sure? It's on the house, you just saved me and Ty a lot of headache, that bitch has been needed to be put in her place for a long time,” Marci let me know. “She struts around here like she can take anything she wants.

“You should have seen what she did to her when she tried to smash her head in with a bottle while Carter kissed her. How does that piece of shit female go after two taken men at once.” Lana pointed out

“Oh stop it Lana, I was just trying to spare Carter from having to deal with her, its not my fault she got in the way.”

“Whatever, it's clear to anyone you were never acting,” Lana pointed out.

I held my tongue and held back the words that though I never “acted” Carter sure had or at least that's the truth I would hold onto until proven otherwise.

“I think the men around here need to grow some balls and tell her no,” I pointed out.

“Thats the problem with Miranda, they do and she just can’t take a hint.” Marci pointed out.

“Well, I’m not putting up with any of her tantrums,” I said. Carter and I may be off the table, but I wasn’t going to let anyone try to say that what happened between them was anything but what it was. She saw a crack of an opening and forced it open.

We argued with Marci about the bill, but the manager came out and we ended up talking about marketing. I don’t even know how we ended up on the subject, but I promised to come by next week and explain some easy options that may help her with the tourists that came through. For a community so against outsiders, they sure loved their money. Taking Lana to the grocery store was a trip. When the music changed on the speakers, she had me slow dancing in the aisles and begged me to make real spaghetti and meatballs and several other meals like a child. Mazzie and Lana apparently didn’t cook much; she was begging me to cook for her in every aisle. The groceries barely fit in her car after I got everything I needed a few bottles of wine, a bottle of whiskey and a pack of cigarettes. Lana frowned at me, but didn’t comment. She supervised my workout again, but I didn’t let my force run rampant this time; I channeled it. It felt like an instinct coursing through my veins. It felt good, like coming home.