Page 64 of David

My eyes go back to his broad shoulders and V-shaped torso, perfectly highlighted by his slim-fit dress shirt.

On his turf, his presence is even more overwhelming.

“You say you know me,” he utters before returning to the table.

He holds my gaze as I mull over what to say next.

His eyes are distracting.

What can I possibly say?

That I’m a bit of a fan of how hard he likes to fuck, and how dirty he can be in bed?

It wouldn’t be such a great conversation starter.

He hands me my wine and sips his hard liquor, standing, his eyes not leaving mine.

The wine is cold, and the aroma is light and enticing.

“I’m Thea Porter’s cousin.”

He’s frozen for a second, struggling with the news. A frown creases his brow.

“Porter?”

“The future Mrs. Preston. Edward’s wife.”

If the news has stirred an ounce of surprise in him, he surely doesn’t reveal it.

Calm and collected, he takes a seat across from me, not in a hurry to eat.

The room suddenly feels cold, his vacant stare floating over the table.

He seems unaffected, but now that I have learned more about him, I’d say the opposite has happened.

Let’s say he’s not enthralled with the news.

After all that buildup, the titillating back and forth igniting his imagination, he deals with an obnoxious stranger––me––and a crushing letdown.

I told him.

I tried to warn him.

“Are you coming to the wedding?” he murmurs, his dull voice confirming his displeasure with the news.

“Yes. You?”

I dip my eyes to the appetizers.

“Go on. Eat,” he says.

All the fancy stuff has vanished, and now I’m just someone who needs to be fed. Or not.

Maybe he won’t offer me a ride home either.

I doubt it, though.

More than ever, he needs to treat me like I’m one of them, even though I’m not.

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