Chapter 39

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"This is delicious." I gushed while finishing my second slice of pizza.

"Glad you're enjoying!" The waiter exclaimed with a smile.

"She's adorable, isn't she?" Faulkner asked him while smiling.

"She is, sir. Will their be any dessert?" The waiter inquired.

Adorable?

"Get us a slice of that famous New York cheesecake you make for my father when he's in town." Faulkner ordered him.

"On it." The waiter replied before rushing back to the kitchen.

"How do you feel about skipping the museum?" Faulkner asked after we finished our dessert.

"Whatever you want to do." I answered while standing up the same time he did.

"Make them think we're headed home." He ordered his guard before beginning to lead me through the restaurant and to the back door.

"Thought we needed security wherever we go." I told him while I followed him outside. The cold air nipped at my bare arms and cut straight through the thin, satin fabric of my dress.

"When you're with me, you don't." He replied while he led me to a black Cadillac sedan.

With no one around, he still opened the passenger door for me. He closed the door once I was inside before jogging around to the driver side.

"So you just had all this planned to escape the media?" I asked while he started the car and blasted the heat.

"Yep." He answered while beginning to drive down an alleyway.

After driving for quite a few minutes and mostly in silence, we left the city and parked up at a lookout with a view of the city below us.

He turned off the headlights before reaching into the backseat before handing me an empty wine glass.

"I want to get to know you." He stated while bringing a bottle of wine from the backseat.

"You said you already knew me. You've watched me long enough, and after seeing your camera view of my house I believe you know too much." I replied while he poured my glass half-full of red wine.

"What I know is that you're a good mom, good friend, and a survivor. What I want to know is what's made you who you are." He replied while leaning his seat back slightly.

"Okay." I muttered.

"What happened here?" He asked while bringing his hand to my neck and gently running his index finger across the scar on my skin.

"A man I thought loved me." I answered before drinking a sip of the wine.

"Slit your throat?" He questioned.

I nodded my head and fought like Hell to fight the memory from my head.

"I hate it." I told him while placing my hand over it.

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