“So, what are you? Some kind of sailor? A marine?”
“He's a SEAL,” mom answers for me. “You're not the only one who likes to hold her cards close to her chest. My son's very shy about admitting it, or maybe the government keeps his lips sewed shut, or something.”
Or something. The only thing worse than the asshole reporters I dealt with in Iraq and Afghanistan are mom's loose lips. My commanding officer wrung my neck the first month I joined the SEALs after she squawked to a tabloid while she was drunk.
Thankfully, the asshole printing up the story refused to drop it, but only after she shelled out some serious money. Maybe she thought marrying her new sugar daddy gave her a new license to blab about my business again, but hell if I was having it.
“A SEAL?” Delia actually sounds impressed. “Wow. You must be awfully good at what you do to get inducted into the special forces. So elite.”
“Whatever. I'm good at everything I do.” I look her in the eyes and watch her eyes skip down. My confidence scares her, and I fucking love it. “I've got my duties and I take them seriously. That's all anybody at this table really needs to know. So, Bruce, while we're talking secrets, tell us about the big merger coming up with your company.”#p#分页标题#e#
I've got a feeling the soft, rich boy has a narcissistic streak as well. And I'm right when his face lights up, and he begins prattling on about all these high level corporate details, legalese, and how it's all but guaranteed to make him even richer.
He's as shameless as I expected – maybe a little more so. What a fucking joke.
After about five minutes of listening to him while I'm chomping on my main dish, a seared steak with a lobster tail and glazed asparagus, I hit my beer hard. Mom gives me the stink eye while I lift my tall glass and down the entire thing in one fluid movement.
It's like she doesn't know I'm doing her a favor. Something's gotta take the edge off here. Getting a nice buzz is definitely the lesser evil compared to shoving my hand under the table again, and this time I won't stop at Delia's thigh.
I'll feel her hot pussy again, shove my fingers straight up her wetness, drag my fingers back to her mouth and finally taste what I've had on my mind all fucking night.
She won't even look at me now, picking at her food more aggressively, occasionally lifting her head to look at our parents and murmur her interest. Fuck, that pisses me off.
I'm used to laying low. Secrets are my life in the force, and so is handling life or death, possibly for millions when our missions go critical to prevent bigger wars and terrorist attacks.
But being ignored by the girl I was guaranteed to sink my dick into up until this dinner? Fuck everything about it.
“Christopher, no one else has your expertise. Why don't you see what Bruce has to offer next time you're up for re-enlistment?” Mom's staring intently at me, and I don't even know what turn the conversation's taken after thinking about all the ways I'd rip off my stepsister's dress and fuck her. “I worry about you sometimes. Being over there, doing God only knows what...”
She mimics concern. Bruce holds her hand, giving me a warm, approving look, like he wants to interview me today for some boring bullshit designed to turn my muscles into fat office goo.
Maybe he cares, but I know better than to mistake anything mom says. I'll never believe her again, not after she leaned on me in my late teens, turning me into the rock I never asked to be.
It's a miracle I survived. Mom nearly ruined me before I found my discipline and purpose in the Navy. She's been trying to slither back into my life ever since, bringing her venom, her drama, her brutal flaws.
“No,” I growl, blotting at my lips with a tablecloth. “I don't do office crap, you know that. I'm happy where I'm at. I can handle the danger. I know every single day what I signed up for, and I wouldn't trade it for anything.”
Now, I'm feeling the heat. Delia's anxious eyes are on me, but I don't give a damn about that. It's feeling mom's gaze digging into me, pleading, trying to bend me like clay to be her perfect trophy boy again.
“But Christopher, look.” She pauses, grabs Bruce's hand, and runs a hand over her tired face. “We can all start over. It's not too late. Look at me. I've sorted out my life and I'm ready to love again. You've given a lot to this country, and you've got to draw the line somewhere. I didn't want it all to come out like this, but I –“
I throw my cloth napkin down on my plate and bang my empty beer glass so hard Delia jumps next to me. “You what? Is that what you really brought me here to talk about, mom? I should've known there was an ambush here somewhere in between the grand tour and hanging out with your perfect new family.”