Page 70 of Liars and Liaisons

Like father, like son, I suppose. Ezekiel’s been gunning for my demise since my birth, and he enjoyed twisting Sydney’s hopes and dreams to shatter me.

Nathaniel cups Violet’s face in his hands, and red morphs to a vibrant green in my eyes. He lowers his face to hers, even as she keeps her gaze on me.

Envy and betrayal spin a hot web across my chest, blanketing my organs with their torment. My teeth clench, so hard that I’m afraid they might knock loose, until, finally, I turn away and leave them.

23

Pressingmy palms into Nate’s sturdy chest, I shove him away with as much strength as I can muster. Yoga kicked my ass already today, but my ex is either not anticipating refusal or is in worse shape than me because he stumbles back, releasing me from his too-tight grip.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The taste of his mouth—liquor and something sweet I can’t place—lingers on mine, and I swipe furiously with the back of my hand to try to erase it.

A single glance in the corner of the dining room proves that we’re alone. Grayson is no longer anywhere to be seen, though I suspect he hasn’t actually gone far. Likely down the hall to eavesdrop since the dimming of his eyes moments ago told me he was buying into whatever Nate was trying to sell.

I’m not sure why I said I was here for Nate. The words just spilled out of me, spurred on by Grayson’s obvious jealousy.

In the moment, I guess I wanted to prove that I wasn’t affected by what had happened between us the other night. Wanted him to believe I hadn’t spent every night since touching myself to the thought of his tongue sliding into me and how good it’d felt to come for him.

Embarrassingly good when my feelings were supposed to belong to someone else.

“What the fuck is your problem, Vi?” Genuine shock registers on Nate’s handsome, but hollow face. “You don’t want to kiss your boyfriend after not seeing him for months?”

The audacity almost makes me laugh. “Are you serious?Boyfriend? We arenottogether.”

“Says who?”

I can’t even believe I’m explaining this right now. “You! A couple of months ago, you freaked out when you learned who my brother was and dipped. I never heard from you again—no calls, no texts, no snail mail.”

He scoffs. As if this were all some childish misunderstanding. “Did I specifically say,Hey, Vi, let’s see other people?”

“It was implied.”

His dark eyes narrow, sliding past me to look around the room. Then, they swing back, angrier than I’ve ever seen them. “Have you been seeing other people, Violet?”

The contrast between how he says my name—slow, enunciating every syllable like he wants me to know he knows it—and how his brother says it, as if it’s a song he could sing for eternity, startles me. All this time, I thought I wanted exactly this. To be back in Nate’s good graces and for us to be an item again.

That’s the main reason I agreed to come here, other than the money. To somehow goad Nate into a jealous rage that would end with us running off into the sunset together.

But something doesn’t feel right about this. His vehement denial that he ended things or blatantly ignored my attempts to communicate. Even at Alistair’s fundraiser, an event he’d have normally been front and center at, he was nowhere, and I wound up fucking his brother instead.

Still, it feels silly to have worked so hard and come so far, only to give up now. Maybe our dynamics have just shifted. It has been a while after all. I can’t expect things to be exactly the same.

I’m not even sure I want them to be. Nice and polite was fine until I realized what else was out there.

Maybe this is exactly what I deserve.

Then, his hand lashes out, fisting the back of my hair between the French braids. Again, there’s something off here. It doesn’t feel the way it’s supposed to, like I could twist away if I really wanted. It’s like Nate wants to hurt me and now wants me to know it.

“Well?” he asks, leaning in so our mouths are almost touching. “Been slutting it up in my absence?”

“Jesus.” I push at him again, reaching around to try and pry his fingers off. “No, you lunatic. Getoffme before I kick your dick in.”

“Ouch. Where’d my sweet little flower find a backbone?” He laughs. Tips his head back and gives a full-bellied guffaw, but doesn’t let go. “What’s the fucking problem? Aren’t you happy to see me?”

Alarm swims through my bloodstream, and I briefly consider the possibility that the mountain air has altered the man’s brain chemistry. Gone is the soft, funny guy who opened doors for me and called every night to make sure I’d gotten into bed safely.

The man standing before me is not the same one I spent the last few months lamenting over. When I sneak a peek at his reflection in the mirror, I realize I don’t really even recognize him at all; he’s got the same features as his brother, but they’re worn. Haggard almost, as if exposed to exhaustion for too long.

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