My fate was sealed; I didn’t have the energy to fight, plus it was probably best just to get the awkwardness over and done with. I followed Monique into the dining room where the table was set with an assortment of dishes, each one less appetizing than the last. And of course, Dev was sitting at the head of the table, his eyes skimming me as I walked in and pulled out a chair opposite him.
Holy-fuckballs!
My stepbrother was shirtless, tattoos on full display.
Why did he have to be shirtless?
My mouth went dry.
He had on a pair of comfy trousers and nothing else. His glorious torso was glistening, probably still wet from the shower in their upstairs bathroom, and his muscles rippled, making the snake tattoo dance in front of my eyes.
I told myself to look away, but then he nodded in my direction and my insides constricted. What, I didn’t even deserve a hello? Prick.
My mouth set in a line, I concentrated on the place setting in front of me, watching with dread as Monique proceeded to load my plate with minuscule portions of kale, chia seeds and other stuff I’d never tried before. She looked at me expectantly, and I rotated my plate, hoping maybe from a different angle it would look more appetising.
It tasted even worse than it looked, bland and nasty. I suppressed the urge to reach for the saltshaker, knowing my hand would be slapped away immediately. At least there were scrambled eggs, I thought, though they were a sad, miserable shade of pale yellow.
I could barely get the food down, especially when Dev and Monique started talking. The lump in my throat grew bigger and bigger, taking up the much needed space I required to breathe and swallow.
“Monique, this is wonderful,” Dev gushed, and I gave him an incredulous look. Liar! He could not be serious - the food was fit only for little furry creatures.
“Thank you.” Her tone was chilly as she cut her tofu. The smell was making me retch from the other end of the table. “Could you put on a shirt? You look like a Neanderthal.”
I stared in horror as his hand covered hers. She tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her. He held on, smiling lovingly at his wife as my insides boiled.
“In a minute, honey. I’m nearly done. Let me finish this glorious breakfast you prepared,” he promised with another sickening smile.
I had absolutely no right to feel offended by this simple showing of love, yet it made me furious. He’d been kissing me only last night, and he seemed to be enjoying it, too. And now he was pretending that nothing had happened, sucking up to Monique?
Devan is a cheat, a liar and a fucking snake, I thought as the image of his tattoo flashed in my mind and accidentally slammed my cutlery down against my plate making the two of them glance up at me.
“Everything okay, Mila?” Monique.
“I’m fine,” I replied through gritted teeth.
My mouth was tight as I reached for the jug of orange juice just as Dev did the same.
Our hands met in the middle, and we shrank away from the touch like lightening had zapped us both. For a split second, our eyes met over the table… Full of longing, need and lust. Fuck.
I tried not to stare after that; I kept my head low, only looking at him out the corner of my eye, but my heart was pounding.
I tried to shake my feelings for him, my need for him, out of my head, but the more I tried to deny them, the larger my feelings grew. They filled me till I could no longer ignore them… or breathe.
Soon my heart and body would want their demands met – either that or I would explode. I sneaked a look at Dev, my heart swelling then instantly deflating as I saw him smiling at Monique.
Goddamn it, I was jealous. I wanted him all for myself.
Once a cheater, always a cheater, I said in a bitter, sing-song voice in my head while snapshots of my past failed relationships lit up, surrounded by bright neon lights, taunting me… warning me. After all, I probably wasn’t his first.
Was I actually naive enough to think that this, him kissing me, was the first time he’d cheated on Monique? How would I know? Perhaps there was a long line of past indiscretions.
No wonder Monique was pissed at him, I thought. It would explain a whole lot.
But Monique was just as bad. Maybe they deserved each other.
I tried to convince myself that he was pure evil, a man not to be trusted, but the longing in my chest would not leave me be.
12
Devan
I had never had a more uncomfortable meal in my life, and my jaw was beginning to ache from the plastic smile I used as a mask.
Fucking grin and bear it.
My wife was giving me the cold shoulder, and Mila was shooting daggers at me with her eyes from across the table. I felt like I was caught in crossfire, out in the open, snipers shooting at me from every possible escape route.